Shards of the Past
by kiltsaresexy
Summary: After a decade in The Spire, Sparrow reemerges a changed woman only to find that Albion has also changed. Coping with the void her choices have created within her, she tries to regain part of who she once was while continuing to fulfill her ultimate goal: defeating Lucien. Will she find comfort and strength in her old roots, or will she find it in a stranger-turned-comrade?
1. Damaged

**A/N: I've been gathering ideas for this story since February, and I'm glad that with A Dark Commitment finished (for the moment, at least), I can focus on something a little different. I haven't published a story about Sparrow, and I wanted to attempt something a little different than what I had been doing. I'm aiming to write shorter chapters, so I may be able to update more often. Hopefully that will work out for me and for you, my readers. Enjoy!**

**Chapter One : Damaged**

_Rookridge, Ten Years after Sparrow entered The Tattered Spire. _

"Sparrow!" Hammer exclaimed as she saw her friend appear at the top of the steps. She gave Alfie, Sparrow's dog, a few scratches behind his ears, and a smile of excitement spread across her face. "You look a lot more like yourself, now."

Sparrow ran her hand over the short, golden regrowth of her hair, and she shuffled nervously toward the table where Hammer sat. Her years at the Spire had certainly taken their toll on her, and it had taken a great deal away from her. She had grown thin and almost frail without much opportunity to practice her strength, skill, or will. Her face, which had once glowed with vigor and vitality, had lost its fullness, and was now dull and ever frowning, though still smooth and unblemished by age or scarring. But now after taking a breather small break following a long trip from Westcliffe to Rookridge, and dressed in her old adventuring clothes, she looked and maybe felt a bit more like her old self.

As Hammer wrapped her massive arms around her Sparrow nearly flinched. She hadn't been touched gently, nevertheless hugged in so long. It was going to take some getting used to. Her spine stiffened, but she tried not to show her discomfort. She patted Hammer softly on the back, and she said, "It's good to see you."

Hammer released her, giving her a warm, welcoming smile as she stepped away. She had grown harder over the years—less round, more muscular. She'd certainly been making use of the weapon that she'd chosen because of her nickname. She had been probably taken up Sparrow's duties clearing out bandits, finding lost children—being a proper hero—in the time Sparrow had spent at The Spire.

"You look like you could use a proper meal," Hammer continued. She took a seat at the table once more, motioning for Sparrow to join her.

"Yes, thank you," Sparrow said softly. She offered a sliver of a smile as she sat across from Hammer.

Alfie immediately changed from sitting at Hammer's feet to lying next to Sparrow's. He didn't pounce or jump on her, as most dogs would. It would seem he understood the fragile state she was in. He merely laid his head on the toes of her boots, content to just be near her.

"I bet you're glad to be back in Albion," Hammer said. "I can't imagine that place was very…homey."

Hammer realized her poor choice in words almost as soon as they left her mouth. Her face reddened, and she exhaled.

Sparrow simply shook her head slowly. "No. It wasn't."

A thick silence overtook them, and it wasn't until the owner of the inn laid their meal before them that either of them spoke at all.

"You know, you don't have to tell me about it," Hammer said slowly, her gaze meeting with Sparrow's. "But if you wanted to, I'm here to listen."

"There was a lot that I…" She licked her lips, and her eyes looked almost haunted. Her chest tightened, but she tried to banish that feeling. "I…don't think I can talk about yet, but I did want to ask you about something."

"What's that?"

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, her left arm twitching slightly. "My… family. How are they?"

"Alex and Rose?" Hammer asked. "Yeah. I've been keeping a good eye on them." She nodded with a soft smile. "Little Rose is clever as a whip, and about as fast as one, too. She definitely takes after her mother."

"So they're safe," she exhaled with obvious relief.

"We can start toward Oakfield in the morning. If we're quick we could make it there in two days." Hammer offered. "I imagine you want to see them."

Sparrow's mouth pressed into a tight line, but she nodded quickly. She took a bite of her roast to avoid having to speak any more about it. Her heart pounded uneasily in her chest, but she breathed steadily. If she had learned anything in the past ten years, it was how to hide emotion.

"So, I've gotten a fair bit of practice in the past few years," Hammer said, tactfully changing the subject. "I've almost completely cleared the bandits out of Westcliffe for your friend Barnum." She smiled as she speared a piece of potato on her fork and took a bite. Sudden realization crossed her face, and she swallowed her food before adding, "Oh! By the way, Barnum mentioned that he had a return on your investment waiting for you! You should probably go see him soon."

"Perhaps the next time I pass through Westcliffe," Sparrow agreed with a nod.

"Alright," Hammer said, her voice dipping into worry. She seemed to be studying Sparrow, looking for the damage that the long years away had done, assessing what she could do to fix it.

Sparrow felt panic flooding her under the scrutiny of her good friend. She knew she would have to get used to talking to people again. Socializing was not really encouraged at The Spire, nor did she really want to talk to the people that would have been considered her peers. Those that made it past their first few years grew cold and cruel, but Sparrow had tried to avoid that fate. She composed herself as well as she could.

Taking a large bite out of her roll, she asked, "So, have you finally managed to beat my record, then?"

Hammer's face lit up with recognition, and she shook her head, "You know I'm no good with a pistol."

Sparrow smiled, and she shook her head. "You've had ten years to practice."

"Yeah, well," Hammer snorted. "I think I'll leave the fancy shooting to you."

"I still think you could hit three people with the same bullet if you _really_ tried," Sparrow chuckled with a grin. Her face was smiling, but her eyes weren't. She was trying so hard to conceal the pain, to comfort her friend who had been so very worried about her.

Hammer laughed at the absurdity of it. "Yeah, and maybe I'll also sprout wings and fly my fat arse right out the window!"

They both laughed, and Hammer's face softened. She slid a hand across the table to cover Sparrow's and she gave her the most comforting expression she could muster.

"It is really good to see you home and safe, Sparrow," Hammer said. "I was worried for you every hour of every day. "

Sparrow gave a tense, crooked smile. "Thank you, Hammer."

The moment drew out into a minute until Hammer patted the table top with sudden smile.

"I think we could use some ale, what ya think?" Hammer suggested warmly.

Sparrow smiled, and the thought of losing herself in a mug or two brought her the faintest bit of relief. "Yeah. I think we could."

* * *

><p>Sparrow closed the door to her room, and she leaned against the frame, exhaling. Her head was swimming with the ale, and she felt as if she might be able to enjoy a full, restful night of sleep—something she had not been able to luxuriate in for a decade. The ship she had caught from Westcliffe to Rookridge hadn't exactly been the steadiest or most comforting vessel, and she spent her days and nights aboard sick from the constant rocking.<p>

She kicked off her boots and stripped herself of her coat. She undressed, tossing her clothes onto a chair sitting in the corner of the small, cozy room. Sitting on the bed, she realized that she literally could not remember the last time she had this amount of privacy. Trying to remember made her head throb with that pain that had become all too familiar under The Commandant's strict hand. She rubbed at her temples, and she tried to focus on the positives of her freedom.

She would not have to sleep lightly in fear that someone might attack her or take advantage of her. She would not have to wake before the sun rose, and she most definitely would not have to fear that she would lose more time to The Commandant. He was dead, but even still, she could not take comfort in that fact. Another horrible man of Lucien's would only rise up to take his place, to inflict that torture on countless other poor, misguided souls.

Her skin gathered into gooseflesh at the memory of his punishments, and she rubbed at her arms to try to smooth it away. Her fingers found the smooth scar tissue that ran across her left forearm, and she looked down to inspect the scar for what must have been the thousandth time.

**_Never forget family_**

The letters were rough and sloppy, and she stroked the words. Her strength and constitution had been so depleted during her time at The Spire, so that must have explained how she could have made such a vivid, thick scar. She couldn't remember doing this to herself. The early years of her service to The Spire were a blur, taken away from her because of her kind heart—along with most of her memories of her family.

She remembered bits and pieces of her husband, Alex, but she didn't remember much. All she had were flashes of vague happiness in his arms.

_"Are you happy, darlin'?" he asked, pulling her to rest against his bare chest. His hands were rough from work, but he touched her like one would touch the most fragile of heirlooms. "Are you __**truly**__ happy with me?"_

_She laughed and placed a kiss on bare skin above his heart. She turned her gaze up to his face, and she just inspected him, smiling. His light brown hair was mussed and fell in waves down to his narrow, angular jaw. His eyes were dark, but warm and loving. He had a strong, hooked nose, the kind usually seen on the highest of aristocrats, but Alex was common and perfect. _

_She brought a hand to trace his lips. "Blissfully happy, love." _

The memory made her heart ache for more. She wished she knew him more because what little she could recall, she loved. Having so little to remember of someone she clearly loved was tragic, but what was even more devastating was the discovery that she had a child—a child that she did not –could not—remember at all.

She covered her face, her tears burning in the corners of her eyes, and when she realized she no longer had to hold them in anymore, she let go. She surrendered to her sadness, and it overtook her like a cold, black tide. She was drowning in the sadness, but it almost felt good to feel something other than the numbness she'd had to adopt while working to free Garth. She covered her mouth, her sobs growing louder with each passing moment.

There was a knock at the door, followed by Hammer's voice, "Sparrow?"

Sparrow didn't realize that Hammer had entered the room until she felt the immense strength of her arms wrap gently around her. Instead of pulling away and closing herself off, she allowed Hammer to comfort her. She grasped at her friend and buried her face into the crook of her neck, sobbing violently.

"Shh," Hammer crooned softly, stroking Sparrow's hair gently. "You're not alone, Sparrow. You don't have to go through whatever this is alone. You were there for me when my father was killed, and I want to be here for you for this."

Sparrow gulped, and she shook her head. There was no way that she could tell her all of this. What would Hammer think of her, then? What would her family think? She couldn't bear to disappoint them, or even worse, break their hearts. She sucked in a lung full of air, and she sighed, "I just…haven't been free in ten years. It's…it's overwhelming."

Hammer just smiled softly. "It'll get better."

Sparrow knew Hammer was only trying to comfort her, but she knew that unless her memories started to return, it would likely only get worse. With time, perhaps, her memories _would_ return. Perhaps returning home, seeing Alex, and meeting her daughter would trigger some sort of recollection.

Sparrow finally felt her breath returning to her, and she drew away from Hammer.

"Thanks, Hammer." She wiped at the tears on her face. "I think maybe if I just try to get some sleep, things will be easier."

"Alright, then," Hammer said with a soft, easy smile. She released Sparrow, and stood from the bed, giving a diagnostic glance toward her friend once more. "I'm right in the room next door if you want to talk or drink some more." She gave a small laugh with her second offer.

Sparrow gave her friend the best reassuring smile she could, and when Hammer left the room, she fell backward onto the bed. She didn't bother undressing because she wasn't yet sure if she would take up Hammer's offer of talking. Maybe if she did talk about it to someone, it would lessen her burden.

Rolling onto her side, she dismissed the thought. Hammer wouldn't understand. She doubted anyone would understand. She remembered Bob the guard, the man The Commandant had tried to make her kill. By the end of his time at the Spire, he'd almost completely lost all of his memory, and that had scared her. But she didn't think it would happen to her. She didn't think she would allow it to happen to her, but then it did.

The tears came again, but instead of allowing them to fall, she tried to hold them in. She rolled onto her side, and she brought her knees to her chest. She used the mantra she had used when trying to fall asleep in The Spire.

_Albion needs you sane. Albion needs you strong. Albion needs you sane. Albion needs you strong. _

It wasn't until after midnight that she was finally able to drift off to sleep, and her dreams were black and full of the terrors of The Spire. Terrors even The Commandant could not erase. The desperate moans of starving men, the screams of pain—some of them her own—and overseeing the disposal of hundreds upon hundreds of men that had given their lives in service to Lord Lucien and his despicable construction. The smell of the burning corpses was still fresh in her memory, and it haunted her.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll hope that you'll leave me a review telling me what you think. **

**I have to send out a huge THANK YOU to my ever-encouraging beta-reader ****Angelacm.**** She reassured me, encouraged me, and helped me with the cover for this story! She has a new chapter for her her story Beneath The Surface that you should definitely check out! **


	2. Reunion

**Chapter Two: Reunion**

The sun was high in the sky when Hammer and Sparrow reached Oakfield. They had been traveling for two and a half days. Sparrow had found many reasons to stall along the way: stopping at every inn for an ale, or browsing the wares of every wandering trader. Hammer hadn't said anything, but it was clear that she had come to realize how nervous Sparrow was about returning to her family.

At Sparrow's request, they camped under the stars, and she found that she slept much easier with the earth beneath her, sky above, and fresh air filling her lungs. She found herself feeling the grass, smelling the flowers, and getting reacquainted with the outside world. Even the rain was a welcome treat for her. While Hammer huddled under the thick canopy of the forest, Sparrow felt as if she could finally breathe again in the wide open world around her.

It was almost like reliving her childhood. She could always see the stars through the holes in the roof of the shanty house that she and her sister Rose shared in Bowerstone. They would count them together or find shapes and animals in the constellations. It was a small comfort to be able to do that again.

She could never see the stars from The Spire. The ominous black cloud around the horrific construct always seemed to obscure the sky whether it was day or night. At night, she would close her eyes and try to remember what they looked like, despite having seen them thousands of times before. Everything got fuzzier while she was in The Spire, but other things—such as her family—had been taken away from her completely.

_Her family…_

She would have to be cautious of anything she might say or do. She did not want to burden anyone with what might only be a temporary problem. If her memories eventually returned to her, things would be better, right?

What if things were not as ideal as she believed? She had so little recollection to string together, and it was nothing but pleasant, if brief, memories. Part of her wanted to be hopeful, but another part of her doubted the whole situation. What if she was not happy with Alex, or worse, if Alex was not happy with her? She tried to lock those thoughts away, but the more she tried, the more she failed.

Hammer led them toward the largest farm in the area, pointing it out and declaring, "You're almost home!"

Sparrow felt her stomach bundle up into a tight knot. She laced her fingers together and tried to steady herself. She took in the surroundings of Oakfield. Things seemed vaguely familiar. She recalled travelling here in her search for Hammer, but she did not remember much more than that. She began inspecting every house and every stall, hoping to trigger some sort of deeper recognition.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something. Something she remembered.

"Hammer, wait," Sparrow said, almost breathlessly as she darted off toward the valley to the west. She hopped the fence and knelt in front of a bed of delicate, white wildflowers. She stroked the petals, and a soft smile crossed her face as she remembered that Alex had been fond of flowers.

She scooped up a few handfuls and bundled them together tightly. She hastily returned to Hammer, who was grinning broadly at her.

"You softie," she snickered, crossing her arms over her chest. She nodded in the direction of the farmhouse on the hill. "Come on, now. Let's get you home."

Sparrow's anxiety was starting to turn into excitement. She had remembered the flowers, and perhaps that meant she would remember something else. Maybe it wouldn't be as difficult as she had been anticipating. Maybe it would all come back to her eventually, and she could start to take steps toward returning to the woman she once was.

She inhaled the sweet aroma of the white blossoms, and before she knew it, they were approaching the door to her farmhouse.

It was closed, and there was no one in the vast fields that surrounded it.

Sparrow was unsure of what to do. She shifted from one foot to the other, daring to glance about the lands once more. "Do I…knock?"

"Well, technically, it is _your_ house," Hammer said. She tried to peek through the windows. "Go on. Open the door."

She chewed on her lip for a few moments, her eyes moving between Hammer and the handle to the door. What if no one was there? Worse yet, what if someone was there, someone new? She wrinkled her brow and her hand trembled as she reached for the door handle. What if Alex had found another wife in the decade she was absent. Surely Hammer would have told her if Alex had found another.

Panic struck her once more. What if her family had moved on without her? She may not have been able to remember very much of her life before, but the memories she did have were good. To lose the hope that she could be happy one day, would be devastating. If forced to soldier on alone, she was not sure she would make it.

Sparrow took in a deep breath and gathered her wits. She could do this. She pushed the door open, and with a bit of light encouragement from Hamer—a not-so-gentle shove—she moved over the threshold. Unfortunately, the inside appeared completely foreign to her. Not a thing was recognizable, but she tried to comfort herself with the fact that it _had_ been ten years. Things had undoubtedly changed, and would most likely be unfamiliar to even those with their memories intact. Maybe venturing further would spark something else.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps coming from the stairs, followed by a voice.

"Can I help y—?"

Sparrow turned, and she saw Alex, paused in the middle of the staircase. His dark eyes widened, and his lips parted. The years were evident from the streaks of silver that had woven through his hair and the faint lines on his face. She wondered if they had been left by laughter or worry. If they were lines left by laughter, did that mean that he had found happiness in their time apart, and if they were left by worry, had her extended absence caused them?

"Sparrow?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion. "Is…Is that _you_?"

She took a few steps toward him, her grip around the flowers tightening. Her heart was pounding in her throat, and she tried to suck in more air.

"Hello," was all she could manage to say. The word was strangled and full of anxiety. His reaction wasn't positive or negative yet. Everything hung in the air, and her gut was twisting even tighter with apprehension.

He rushed toward her, throwing his arms around her. His grip was tight and desperate, and Sparrow felt the breath whoosh out of her lungs as quickly as if she'd been socked in the gut.

Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on the moment. She tried to grasp for anything that might rise to the surface in her mind. When nothing came, she moved her attention to that moment. She felt alarm rather than comfort in his arms, but she knew that could simply be the extreme pressure she had been putting on herself to enjoy this moment. Maybe with time, the comfort would come.

"Ten years, love," he wept. "You've been gone for _ten years_. I…I thought you were dead."

He drew back, cupping her face tenderly, inspecting her features. His eyes darted down to her mouth, and then to the thinness of her body. "Oh, darlin', what did they do to you in that horrible place? You're so thin…"

He stroked a hand over her cropped, pale hair.

She felt as if she had been dunked in ice water. Her limbs trembled, and her chest burned. All of the heat escaped her body, but a cold sweat had managed to break out across her brow. It was too much. Her mind was trying to remember things that it just couldn't, and the pain seared behind her eyes.

She took a gentle step backward, and she felt the tears coming, when she wished they wouldn't. Instead of offering an explanation of what had come to pass in the decade she'd been gone, she held the flowers toward him. "I'm sorry."

He took the flowers, a tearful smile crossing his features. "Whatever are you sorry for? You've returned to me."

"I'm sorry I was away so long, Alex," she continued. "I wish…"

She gulped. She wished so many things. She wished she could remember more of this incredible man that had waited a decade for her return. She wished she could turn back the clock and try harder to hold onto him.

"Papa!" cried a little voice from the open door. "Auntie Hammer's outside! She said you had a surprise for me!"

Alex's smile grew warmer, and he moved to set the flowers down on the dining table.

Little Rose charged into the house, long chestnut braids trailing behind her, and her eyes were wide and hopeful and sea-colored, just like Sparrow's. She was precisely how Sparrow remembered herself as a child—only Alex had taken good care of her on his own. She was clean, well-fed, and happy. By Sparrow's best estimate, Rose was roughly ten years old. She was no more than an infant when her mother left her to fulfil a destiny that did not include her.

Sparrow wondered how painful it was for this poor child to grow up with no memories of a mother that undoubtedly loved her—a mother that had carved a special reminder into her arm to hold onto her the best she could. A mother that failed.

Guilt and sadness flooded her. Even with the best intentions—saving the world from the tyranny that Lucien Fairfax would undoubtedly thrust upon it—she had condemned her own child to grow up without a mother, something she had also been forced to do. She knew how painful it was, even with a loving caretaker. She wanted to apologize to her and beg the little girl's forgiveness, but she remained silent, holding in her tears.

"I want you to meet someone very special, Rosie-dear," he said, leaning down to take his daughter's hand. He glanced up to Sparrow, his smile widening even further. "This beautiful lady is your mother."

He took Sparrow's hand and placed Rose's in it.

Rose's eyes were full of wonder as she stared up to Sparrow. Her wonder morphed to excitement, and she flung herself forward, clamping her arms around Sparrow's waist. "Papa said I was only a baby when you had to leave to fight the bad men!"

Sparrow stiffened considerably, but she gulped down her fear guilt. If she was to do this, she had to be mindful of their feelings. She couldn't let her child think she was rejecting her. She slipped down to one knee, and she was face to face with Rose. Upon inspecting her closer, she could see that the girl had Alex's thin angular face hidden beneath the round, rosy cheeks of a child. She had his smile, for certain, but Sparrow's eyes and nose. Her hair was the deep, chestnut brown that Sparrow's had once been before her deeds started to affect her appearance.

Rose was eagerly awaiting her mother's answer, so she finally made herself speak. "Yes. I had to leave to fight some very bad men. "

"But you're back, now? You won?"

She hesitated, unsure of what to say. Her family had waited so long for her, but Theresa had assured her that her quest was not yet done. There was still much to do, and more heartache to be had. She stroked the little girl's hair away from her eyes, and she said, "I will stay as long as I can. There are still bad men out there, and I have to help to make sure they do not hurt anyone else."

She heard Alex sigh, obviously disappointed.

"But you'll come back, after?" Rose asked. "After you're done?"

"I promise you, Rose," Sparrow said, her throat tightening with emotion. Though she could not remember carrying or bearing this child, she loved her—instantly. "I promise you that after I have made this world safe—for you—I will come back."

"But you're not leaving yet, are you?" Alex questioned. "You've only just returned."

Sparrow looked up to him. "I have time. Theresa will call on me when I must leave again."

Alex's mouth tightened into a thin line, but he was silent as he moved toward the table with heavy steps that indicated frustration. He took the flowers from their place, and he muttered under his breath, "I will go fetch some water for these."

Sparrow watched him walk toward the door, and she felt a pang in her heart. She sighed softly, but returned her attention toward Rose. What was she to do? She did not have much experience with children of her age. What did one talk about, especially in this impossibly difficult situation? She settled on making this all about Rose. After all, she owed her so much, and she wanted to give her as much as she possibly could

She cleared her throat, breaking the tense silence, and she asked, "So, Rose, what is your absolute favorite thing in the world to do?"

"Papa and I go out into the field, and we find shapes in the clouds," Rose said. "He always finds silly things."

"Well," Sparrow said, putting on her best smile. "Let's do that, eh?"

Rose's eyes sparked with joy, and her head bobbed eagerly as she grinned. "Is Papa going to come with us?"

Alex was reentering the farmhouse just as Sparrow was about to answer.

Sparrow looked to him, offering him a soft, nearly apologetic smile. "If Papa wants to."

Alex's eyes lingered on Sparrow for a few moments, sending her a clear message that they would be able to need to talk later. His mouth turned up into a broad smile, and he held out a hand for Rose. "Of course I do. I can't let you two have all of the fun without me."

Little Rose towed Sparrow toward her father. The girl was strong and seemed to glow with life and vigor, just as Sparrow had at her age. Her stomach churned. The thought of Rose becoming a Hero, following in her footsteps, and leading a life like she led terrified her. Every Hero that Sparrow had known had lost everything dear to them, one way or another. She would not wish that fate upon her child.

As they reached Alex, he gave a smile, but Sparrow could sense that something was off. Perhaps he'd been under the impression that once Sparrow came home, she would be done with everything—Heroism, quests, danger. Perhaps for a few fleeting moments, he thought she'd come back to him permanently.

Sparrow supposed she could understand his disappointment. She felt it, too. Though she was still getting used to having this family, and though she was still trying to remember her life before, she wanted to be able to declare herself _finished_.

Spending time with Rose and Alex, and getting to know both of them all over again would have to suffice, for now.

* * *

><p>Sparrow cradled Rose close to her. The child had fallen asleep ages ago, but she couldn't bring herself to disturb her. The girl's face was smooth and peaceful, the epitome of child-like beauty. She lost track of the time, finding herself mesmerized by the wonder of parental love.<p>

Staring into Rose's face, Sparrow had more peace than she had experienced in a decade, maybe more. She stroked the stray tendrils of curling chestnut hair away from her face, but her touch was careful. She did not want to wake her and end this moment of serenity.

In the short time she'd known this child, she had captured her heart completely. She now understood the instant bond that women were said to experience with their newborn babes. She'd likely already experienced it, but now she was feeling it anew. She felt even more anger toward Lucien and those responsible for the removal of her memories, but she did not want to allow the bad memories to eclipse the new, good memories. She wanted to feel this joy.

"We should put her in bed," Alex suggested quietly. He rose from his seat across the room and approached, holding his arms out.

"I can take her," Sparrow whispered, standing gracefully, not allowing her movements to jostle the child.

She took the steps and entered Rose's room, where they'd played with her dolls until supper was ready, and Sparrow couldn't help but anticipate another day with her daughter. She wished she hadn't missed so much, but she was glad she was there now. She would have the opportunity to make up for lost time. She could make it right.

She laid Rose in her bed and leaned in to brush a faint, tender kiss against her forehead, as if she'd done it a thousand times.

"Good night, my love," she murmured, brushing the back of her hand against her cheek before turning to leave the room. She closed the door gently, and she saw that Alex was waiting for her at the top of the stairs

"She didn't even wake up," Sparrow remarked with a warm smile.

"Now that we're alone..." Alex said. He reached a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously. "I mean, now that we have time…"

He brought his eyes up to hers, and he motioned toward the stairs, a strange, anxious look crossing his features.

He asked, "Can we talk?"

Sparrow followed him downstairs. She could only wonder what the topic of conversation would be. Would it be simply to catch up—to discuss things that Alex hadn't deemed appropriate to be brought up before Rose? Her stomach had that unpleasant, uneasy feeling to it once more, but she took the seat across from his in front of the fire, and she willed her muscles to relax. She folded her hands in her lap, and her eyes found Alex's.

He looked as if he were searching for words. His mouth took on a terser, more serious expression.

"Alex," Sparrow finally said, before he could speak. "Can I say something?"

"Yes, of course," he said quickly, almost relieved that she had spoken first.

"I realize that ten years is a very long time," she sighed. "But I am so thankful that you are still here. You could have just as easily moved on without me, remarried, given Rose a real mother."

"You _are_ Rose's real mother," Alex told her tenderly, reaching forward to take her hands in his.

"I have been through…" She squeezed her eyes shut, and she brought in a weak, quivering breath. "I have been through a great deal. I know it is a lot to ask of you, but if you could be patient with me…"

Tears pushed their way down her cheeks, and pulled her hands away from Alex's to cover her face. All she had to do was finish this discussion. If she told him, maybe he would understand. If she was honest, things might be easier.

"Oh, darlin'," Alex breathed. His chair creaked as he rose to come to her side. He kneeled before her, grasping her tenderly by each side of her face. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Don't cry."

As he wrapped his arms around her, her body was wrought with tension. It was almost painful to be held, but she didn't dare push him away. How could she when all he offered was comfort? She gulped in a few vital breaths of air before finally letting her hands fall away from her face.

"Ten years is a long time," Alex said. "But you are here now, and anything that happened between then and now is over with. It's _done_."

She knew that she couldn't put her past behind her, but for his sake, she nodded. A large piece of her knew that what had been done to her could never be erased. She was broken and devastated, but she was thankful for this life with Alex, no matter how little she remembered of it.

"I made vows to you," Alex said. "And you to me. For better or worse, right?"

"Yes," she hiccupped. She would make it her mission to find that woman again, to become her again.

Alex stroked the line of her jaw, his deep, dark eyes catching her gaze, and he leaned in, pressing his lips tenderly against hers.

He was her husband, and they had probably kissed thousands of times before, but she hadn't remembered a single one of those kisses. This was new, foreign. She'd read stories of love and romance as a teenager, and she'd always dreamed of what her first kiss might feel like. There was always a flutter in the belly, a flushing of the cheeks, a tingling of the skin. She did not know what to expect of it, but she was certain of one thing. She did not expect to feel absolutely nothing.

And the nothingness almost killed what little hope she possessed.

**A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. Leave me some reviews to let me know what you think! Another huge thanks to Angelacm. Definitely could not be cranking out these chapters this fast without her. Here's to hoping I keep up my momentum! Read and review, I really appreciate the feedback!**


	3. Farewell

**Chapter Three: Farewell**

Only three weeks after returning to her family in Oakfield, Sparrow received the call that she had been both dreading and anticipating. The Hero of Skill had been found, and she was return to The Chamber of Fate as soon as possible. The journey would be at least three days by foot, but if she hired a carriage, she could make it in a day and a half.

She had been in the middle of chopping wood for the upcoming winter when she heard Theresa's voice through the Guild Seal. Her eyes went immediately to Rose, who was gathering the last of the summer's flowers in a basket for pressing. Sadness and regret filled her, and she stuck the axe back into the stump before gathering up the split logs.

"Sparrow," Alex greeted her with a soft nod, coming through the gate with a sack full of grain from the mill slung over his shoulder. His eyes didn't meet with hers completely, and he moved straight on toward the house.

Things between Alex and Sparrow had become increasingly tense since her return, but how could she blame him? After ten years, he had probably hoped for his wife back—the woman he had married—but Sparrow just wasn't that woman anymore.

She had been back for weeks, and the only thing she had been able to remember was the bouquet she'd given Alex upon her return. And yet, she still hadn't gathered the courage to tell him the truth. It wouldn't be an easy thing to simply reveal to him just how broken she was, just how much her time at that wretched prison had taken away from her.

She once overheard Alex talking to one of the farmhands—one that had apparently been working there for years before Sparrow left for The Spire. Alex had said that she was cold, distant—like there was something missing. There was, and it broke her heart that it hadn't returned. Whatever part of her had truly loved Alex was gone, likely forever. As much as she tried, she couldn't bring herself to open up to him, and that had driven an even larger wedge between them.

Not only had she lost her memories, she'd done atrocious things. Things she wished that the Commandant's punishment would have washed away along with her memories of happiness. Perhaps her time at the Spire _had_ made her darker, colder, but she truly did not want to believe it.

She walked into the house, finding Alex standing at the basin of water. She felt rather awkward walking in on him only half-dressed, as if she were invading his privacy. As he took a cool rag to his neck, she drew in a deep breath, trying to gather the nerve to tell him of her imminent departure.

"Alex…" she said softly, tentatively.

He put the rag in the basin, and he pulled his shirt back over his head. He stepped toward his chair, taking a seat, and he finally acknowledged her. "Yes?"

"I…" She dreaded saying the words. She moved to stand behind her chair, looking away from Alex's expectant gaze. "I received word from Theresa a few moments ago."

He pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a long, disappointed sigh.

She raised her eyes to him, and she could see the heartbreak written on his features. She cleared her throat, and she straightened her spine. "I must leave immediately."

"_Immediately?_" he asked, his eyebrows shooting up with surprise. "You won't at least wait until morning?"

"I can't spare the time, Alex," she told him. "This is important. This is…it's _dire_."

He stood from his chair, his eyes suddenly filled with fire. "And your family? What of us? Are _we_ not important?"

She looked away again, feeling the pain of his accusation seeping into her heart. "Of course my family is important to me. "

"Then why are you leaving again/" he asked.

"Alex, if I don't do this—"

"If you don't do this, then Lucien will do something terrible," he interjected, his tone becoming more acidic. "I know."

He rose from his seat, and he turned to face the fire. His jaw became tense and he crossed his arms over his chest before he uttered, "It's an excuse you've used before."

"It's not an excuse," she fumed, her cheeks flaring with anger. "Don't you think I would have been here if I—"

"You _could_ have," he said, spinning to face her. "But you didn't. It could have been someone else. Someone with no family to look after."

"No," she answered shaking her head. "I was the only one who could have…who _should_ have done it. Every moment of my life has been leading up to defeating Lucien…for the good of_ everyone_."

"The good of _everyone_?" Alex scoffed, his voice full of uncharacteristic acidity.

"Lucien Fairfax is a threat to all of Albion…_including my family_," she retorted. "How can you be so short-sighted?"

His hands clenched at his sides, and his muscles tensed "I'm sorry if I don't think it's fair that I have to go through this—that _Rose_ has to go through this. Do you think it's fair that your daughter had to go ten years without a mother—that I had to tell her every night that I did not know where you were or when you might return? "

His voice grew tight, and he tore his eyes away, glaring toward the fire. "Do you think it's fair that when Rose was old enough to understand that you might be _dead_, I had to hold her as she mourned a mother that she could not remember?"

Her grip on the back of the chair tightened, threatening to splinter the wooden frame beneath her fingers. She gritted her teeth, and she gulped deeply before objecting, "It doesn't matter what's fair, Alex. It's about what's right. I am sorry that you had to endure that, but trust me when I say that my hardship was just as painful…if not more."

"I had to listen to her cry herself to sleep for months, Sparrow! Every day that you did not return was a disappointment to her, and a disappointment to me, as well!"

"I did not abandon her selfishly, Alex! Don't you dare accuse me of that!"

She was sure she was speaking the truth. She loved Rose all those years ago, she knew it. Only the most dire of circumstances would have torn her away from her young child, just as the most dire of circumstances did so, now.

"Sparrow—" His tone was contradictory.

"Don't you think that it pains me to leave Rose again?" she asked, tears surfacing in the corners of her eyes. The thought of not being able to gaze upon her lovingly in the evenings, to miss her laughter, to miss asking her endless questions—it was all overwhelming and unbearable, but it was necessary. She had to leave. She could not let Lucien's dark desires come to fruition. She spoke in a soft sob, "It will, Alex. It will break my heart."

"But it won't pain you at all to leave me, will it?" he rebutted, suddenly turning and crossing the room toward her. "Ten years, Sparrow! _Ten years_ I waited for you, but it's like you're not even the woman I married anymore! _She_ was gentle and loving and affectionate, but you…you're different. You're _cold_."

She was taken aback, unsure of what to say, but at that moment, Rose came bounding in through the door, her basket of flowers swinging from one arm.

Alex went immediately to take the basket from Rose and help her out of her coat. Behind her back, he wiped at his eyes and tried to catch his breath, not wanting their daughter to see the ongoing conflict.

"Papa! Look at all of the flowers I picked! Mama said that we would press them before dinner," She said excitedly, nodding toward the basket of colored blossoms.

"They're very beautiful, love," Alex said tenderly, kissing his daughter's head. He glanced up to Sparrow, as if he wanted to say something else, but he held back. "I'd better get to work on dinner while you and your mother press those."

Moving toward the bookcase, Sparrow tried to reel in her emotion. She had become very adept at it in the past. She wiped at her tears stealthily, and took deep steady breaths until the blurred edges of her vision became crisp in the absence of tears.

Rose's head bobbed in agreement, and she carried the basket toward Sparrow, who had started to gather the heavy books with which to press the flowers.

Sparrow watched Rose with a soft, appreciative eye as she flitted from book to book, pressing the flowers between the pages, debating which flower should be pressed which way. Her energy was unflappable, and joy seemed to pour from every inch of her.

Every moment was a struggle to contain her sadness. She would be leaving this behind for a war she had been waging all of her life. Would it ever end? She never thought of her Heroic blood as a burden until she became reacquainted with Rose. Because of it, her sister had been taken from her. Because of it, she was forced to abandon her family and return to them as a different woman. And now she would have to leave them again.

She wondered if Rose would be able to understand the reason why she was leaving. Perhaps the child would be less critical than her father had been. Perhaps this quest could be finished quickly, allowing her to return to Rose before too long, but much like the rest of her life, these things were out of her hands.

Fate was a cruel mistress, and Sparrow would forever be her slave.

* * *

><p>When the sun had set, and Rose began to yawn sleepily, Sparrow knew it was almost time to leave. She still needed to break the news to her, but she was unsure of how to do it. How could she tell this child, in a way she might understand, that she had to leave again?<p>

"Go get dressed for bed, love," Sparrow cooed affectionately, ushering her toward her bedroom. "I will be in to tell you a story shortly."

Rose's eyes seemed to glow with anticipation. She loved listening to Sparrow's stories of action and adventure. She darted off to change, leaving Alex and Sparrow alone in the living room once more.

"Are you going to tell her, then?" Alex asked. "Or are you going to disappear in the night and leave the dirty business to me?"

Sparrow balked, pressing her lips together, but she answered steadily, "I will tell her."

Alex sighed, and he wrung his hands together. "You're going to break her heart, you know."

Tears welled in her eyes, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I promise…I'll return to mend it as soon as I can."

"I'm not sure that will good enough this time," he said, turning and retreating up the stairs.

She brought a hand to her eyes, wiping away the tears before they could fall, and she moved toward Rose's bedroom.

Rose, washed and dressed for bed, jumped quickly under her covers and pulled them up to her chin. Her green-blue eyes were full of a sleepy sort of excitement for one of her mother's stories.

"Will you tell me about the Hobbes again?" Rose asked, her eyes widening to the size of saucers.

"Your father said that one was too scary," Sparrow said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "But I can tell you a different story."

"Alright," Rose sighed, clearly disappointed, but a soft kiss on the forehead from her mother brought another smile to her face.

"Once upon a time," Sparrow started. "There was a young Hero. She was one of the mightiest Heroes in a land where Heroes had become rare. It was her duty to find other Heroes, and to bring them together to defeat a terrible man."

Rose nodded, encouraging her mother to continue.

"The first Hero was easy to find, but the second…he was far more difficult to locate," Sparrow said. "The Hero had to go to a terrible, terrible place…called The Spire."

Sparrow watched for Rose's reaction. Alex hadn't told Rose where Sparrow had gone in those years, and neither had Sparrow. Word of The Tattered Spire had reached across the land, and Rose had heard of it, though she did not know that her mother had once been a guard there. Sparrow had been afraid to tell her for fear it would ruin the little girl's image of her.

The little girl became completely enthralled by her mother's words.

"In The Spire, the Hero was tested again and again," Sparrow continued, her voice threatening to crack and her face tensing with angst. "And with every test, she became more weakened…and lonely. When she finally freed the second Hero, she had all but lost every bit of herself to that horrible place. Her heart was broken beyond repair, and she left not knowing for sure what would fix her."

"Oh, no," Rose murmured softly, drawing the blankets up to her chin with anxious attention.

"She was sad and confused, but _then_, she met someone that she was sure could heal her heart," Sparrow said. Her face softened, and the lines of anxiety went away.

"Another Hero?" Rose questioned hopefully. "Is this a _love_ story?" It was almost a jibe.

"A _princess_," Sparrow laughed, pinching the tip of Rose's nose softly, playfully. "And this princess was the most beautiful in all of the land. The loveliness of her smile could melt the snow in the dead of winter, her laughter could fix any broken object, and with those, she began to repair the Hero's cold, broken heart. She played with the Hero and showed her the world through different eyes. The Hero loved her, and the strength of that love made her believe that everything would be okay, despite all of the bad things that had happened. The princess was the Hero's hope for the future."

Sparrow pressed her lips together.

"But one day, The Hero received word that her work was not finished," she said. "That she would have to find one more Hero in order to save Albion."

She paused, unsure of how to continue.

"Mama?" Rose asked, noticing the sudden shift in the story. She must have realized that this was not simply a made-up story, and it was leading up to something. She suddenly looked slightly distressed. She sat up, reaching for her mother. "Is that the end of the story?"

"Not the end," Sparrow said. "I promise, but there is something I must tell you."

Rose blinked, nodding again, this time knowing that her mother was about to say something upsetting.

"Love," Sparrow sighed, stroking Rose's hair. "I must leave tonight."

Rose's eyes widened, and they flooded with tears. "But…I thought you were home for good."

Sparrow felt tears of her own stinging her eyes. "I wish I could, sweetie, but this is the last time. I promise. The next time I return, I will be back for good. "

"But we were supposed to celebrate your birthday," Rose sniffled. "Papa was going to help me surprise you with a cake."

Sparrow wrapped her arms around Rose, and she felt her tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, love. I really am. If there was another way, I would find it, but there isn't."

Rose wept quietly, but she nodded, her voice coming in small, quiet little peals, "I know, Mama….I—I want you to beat the bad men. I _want_ you to save the world."

Sparrow's guilt engulfed her, and she gripped her daughter all the tighter. This little girl was showing so much bravery and sacrifice in this moment, and she was astounded. "I promise you, my Rose, that we'll be together very soon. After this, I will _never_ leave you again."

"Yes, Mama," was all that little Rose could weep as she laid back against the pillows.

"Please don't cry, little love," Sparrow cooed sadly. "Would you like me to sing a song for you before I go?"

"Yes," she sniffled, trying to compose herself.

Sparrow drew in a deep breath, and she decided to sing the song that her sister sang to her each night before bed. It had always made her forget about her own sadness each night, and she hoped it might do the same for Rose, if only temporarily.

Sparrow leaned in, brushing a soft kiss upon Rose's forehead. "I love you, Rose. More than anything else in the world."

"I love you," Rose replied, slipping her arms around Sparrow's neck, holding her close for a few moments before releasing her.

"I will see you again very soon, love," Sparrow assured her, rising from her seat. "If you like, I can send you letters, since you're such a good reader."

Rose nodded sleepily, her eyelids drooping, and her smile becoming fainter and fainter.

"Goodbye, my princess," Sparrow whispered, her voice nearly breaking.

* * *

><p>With her rucksack packed with the bare essentials, Sparrow left the room that she and Alex had been sharing for the past few weeks. Looking back at the bed, a jab of pain rippled through her at the reminder of all the nights that she and her husband had slept faced away from each other, enough room in the middle of the bed for a whole other person.<p>

Despite her best efforts, she could not bring herself to feel any passion toward him. He tried only once to make love to her, and she tried to oblige him. It was tense and awkward, even with Alex being as accommodating as possible, and in the end, she just could not bring herself to fulfil the act. As much as she wished she could, she could not find a way back to him—she could not _connect_.

It would not have been fair to him to give him false hope that the woman he loved was still within her, buried away. She was forced to come to terms with the fact that she might actually have truly lost that part of herself.

She saw Alex sitting by the fire once more, his eyes following her until she took the seat across from him. She set her rucksack down at her feet, and she leaned forward, wringing her hands nervously together. The carriage she had arranged would likely be waiting, but it would be insensitive to leave things as they were. Alex was not a bad or cruel man. He was kind, and while he tried to be understanding, it seemed he couldn't grasp the situation.

"So you're going," he said, his voice steady.

"I'm sorry. I must." She tightened her jaw and held in the sadness that her goodbye to Rose had brought up inside of her. She had to be strong. If she were anything less, she would never be able to defeat Lucien..

"I love…_loved_ you, Sparrow," he said, visibly struggling with the change in tense of his words. "I don't want you to go. If you would only stay, I know we can work things out, but if you go…" He shook his head before leaning forward to cradle his face in his hands. This was painful for him, and it was obvious.

Sparrow was silent, but her heart felt pity for him. He deserved so much better.

"If you go, you won't have a husband when you return," he finally said in one heave of air. His eyes were serious, but sad all at once. He truly did not want to let her go, and that was what made it all the more heartbreaking.

"You deserve better than this," Sparrow said softly, her heart full of shame. "You waited 10 years for a woman that never came back, and I am so sorry for that."

"You can still be that woman," Alex said, leaning forward and putting a hand on her knee. "Just stay with me."

"I can't," she said, holding back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. His despair radiated around him, catching her in its deep darkness. She stood, pulling her rucksack onto her shoulder. "I…just can't."

"Sparrow, wait," he said, raising to his feet and grasping her by the wrist. "Please…"

"I want you to be happy, Alex," she whispered, taking one of his hands cautiously in hers. "But I am not the woman that can do that. Please…for your sake, and for mine…" She exhaled softly. "Please don't feel like you are obligated to fight for me. There is nothing worth fighting for…not anymore."

His eyes filled with tears, and he laid a hand upon her cheek. "Sparrow…."

She took a step back, and her chest grew tight, but it was almost a phantom pain. It wasn't as heartbreaking for her as it must have been for him, and that was what pained her. She cleared her throat, and she sighed, "I would very much like to return…to spend time with Rose after this is through."

Alex's tears trickled down his face, but he nodded. "I could never keep her from you. The only time I ever saw a glimpse of the Sparrow I knew…it was when you were with her."

"Please do not let this break your heart," she begged quietly. "I have wasted too many of your years, Alex."

"Loving you was never a waste of my time," he murmured, wringing his hands together. "But if this is what you want…if this is what is for the best…I will do my best to…to move on."

Perhaps one day he would move on, and it would make things less complicated. He hoped that one day, she and Alex could surpass this to continue to be good parents to Rose—even if they were separated.

_Rose_.

Sparrow had promised her that she would come back, but if she didn't, she needed to leave instruction of what must be done.

"Alex, if something should happen to me…if I were to never return…please give this to Rose." She took the thin golden wedding band off of her finger, passing it to Alex. It had been with her belongings when she retrieved them from Theresa. It had been well-cared-for, and inside of the band, the words _Love of My Life_ were engraved. That life, that love had faded away, but Rose had become everything to her since she'd met her. Maybe it was fitting that she left it there for her.

Sparrow cleared her throat, and she sighed, "Maybe it will suit her better."

Alex closed his hand around the ring, and he nodded silently.

"Goodbye," Sparrow said softly.

After a pause and a deep gulp, Alex returned with, "Goodbye."

Sparrow walked toward the door, her heart filled with a heavy, mournful feeling, and she exited, glancing back only for a moment to look at Alex. He still looked thoroughly shocked and sad, but she knew that she was doing this for his sake. He didn't deserve to give his love to a woman who didn't—maybe couldn't—love him in return.

The stars shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the farm, and she took the sight in, trying to memorize every detail as she made her way toward the waiting carriage. When she returned, she would be able to devote all of her time to her daughter. She would be able to make things right, to make things up to her.

That, at least…gave her _hope_.

**A/N: Sorry it took a bit of time to update, I just started some college courses, and I'm still getting used to doing schoolwork AND fitting in some writing. I'm getting the hang of things, so expect more updates in the future! As always, Angelacm-goddess of betareaders-is owed my eternal and plentiful thanks! Leave me some feedback to let me know what you think! It is always appreciated! **


	4. Allies

**Chapter Four: Allies**

Sparrow walked behind Garth, but ahead of Hammer. They hadn't encountered much trouble on the way to Brightwood Tower, and for that, Sparrow was relieved. Since meeting up with them in The Chamber of Fate, Sparrow had barely spoken, and Hammer was obviously concerned, but it seemed as if she didn't dare voice it in front of an "outsider"—_Garth_.

"We should take a rest up ahead," Garth said, pointing toward a clearing next to a small, fresh-water stream. "Perhaps even set up camp for the night. It would be useless to continue on, only to arrive exhausted. I am not sure whether or not my tower is guarded by Lucien's men."

"Good idea," Hammer boomed from behind. "I'm famished, and my feet could use a bit of a rest, too."

Sparrow merely nodded, her eyes drifting down to Alfie, who gazed at her with a hint of worry in his eyes. It seemed he was as observant as ever, and Sparrow tried to set him at ease with a small scratch behind his ear.

They settled in a clearing with a good vantage point of the stream and the woods around it. It would be difficult for bandits or Hobbes to sneak up on them, as they were. Hammer took Alfie and went immediately to fetch firewood and water, while Garth and Sparrow were left to set up the small, shabby tents. It was a good thing that Hammer had suggested bringing the tents in their packs because she doubted that on such a windy day, it would be pleasant to sleep under the stars.

Garth finished tying off the last bit of the larger tent, and he seemed to be watching Sparrow as well, his good eye following her wherever she went with soft scrutiny.

"I do not mean to pry," Garth finally said as they finished digging and preparing a pit for the fire. "But I don't believe you've said a word since we left."

Sparrow took a seat beside the pit, drawing her knees close to her chest and exhaling. "You know what happened in The Spire…what happened to the guards that didn't comply with The Commandant's orders."

Garth nodded slowly, his face tightening and taking on the same vaguely-haunted look that Sparrow's had. "Their minds were invaded, their memories and experiences taken from them."

She rolled up the sleeve on her jacket, showing Garth what she had shown no one else. It felt easier to divulge the information to him. He hadn't known the woman she was before The Spire changed her. He wouldn't be disappointed, and probably would not feel pity. He, too, had been captive at that atrocious place, but as a prisoner, his mistreatment had surely been more severe.

She held out her forearm to him, and he gingerly wrapped his fingers around her wrist, inspecting the words carved into her arm with a look of deep understanding. His touch was cool as he traced the words : _Never Forget Family._

"You lost your memory of them?" Garth asked, turning his eyes toward hers.

She nodded, her face twisted with guilt and pain.

"That was one cruelty that I was spared, it seems," Garth told her. "I am sorry."

"I know that you and all of the other prisoners had it worse in other ways," Sparrow said. "I suppose I should be happy that I left physically intact."

"You cannot compare one person's suffering to another's," Garth told her steadily. "We each have our own burdens, and each is equally as relevant and painful."

Sparrow's lips pursed, and she drew her arm back in toward her body, wrapping it around her legs once more. "I could not even remember my child…or my husband…only in flashes."

"That must have been difficult for you, returning to them, I mean," he offered, sitting down in a cross-legged position.

"Returning my husb—to Alex was very difficult," Sparrow told him, chewing on her lower lip and correcting herself. Alex was no longer her husband. She had set him free. "But becoming acquainted with Rose, even after never remembering her at all, it was as easy as breathing." With the mention of her daughter, the lines of sadness and guilt faded and were replaced by a smile.

Garth offered a sincere nod of understanding.

"But Alex…" she sighed heavily. "Whatever love existed between us before…Lucien took away from me. The woman I was is gone, and as much as I tried, I could not love him like she did."

"And that is painful for you?" he asked.

"I feel like a terrible failure for not being able to love him," she breathed. "He is a good man—strong, kind, loving, and gentle. I wish I could love him."

"You cannot let what happened define you," Garth told her. "What defines us is who we are in the present. You are so much more than just your memories."

"It's hard to look at it that way."

"You were merciful and kind to the prisoners, and you paid for that with your memories," Garth said. "You did it for the sake of everyone, no matter how much you had to sacrifice. Despite how little I know of you, that is the mark of a truly selfless person. You should not feel guilty for what you cannot control."

Sparrow said nothing in return, she merely leaned forward, resting her chin on her knees.

Garth didn't seem to be unsatisfied with her lack of response, and that was a great relief to her. Talking to Garth was easier than what she might have expected. Perhaps it was the fact that he shared in her experiences, or maybe it was because he did not know her before. Whatever it was, she felt as if a small weight had lifted after speaking to him.

"Emotions have never been my strong suit," he admitted. "But if you find yourself in need of someone to speak to, I am here. I am more than in your debt for delivering me from Lucien."

Before she could thank him for his offer, Alfie came bounding excitedly through the tree line, loping toward her with his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. He nuzzled up close to her, pressing his wet, cool nose against her face in greeting.

She wrapped an arm around him and stroked his golden fur.

"When I left the temple, I thought I was done lugging around water," Hammer said, emerging and setting down a large jug full of fresh water from the stream. She also dropped a bushel of twigs and small branches next to the freshly-dug fire pit.

"Thank you, Hammer," Sparrow said, immediately making an effort to sound a little more chipper. She grabbed the bushel and started to arrange them in order to start the fire.

"Don't mention it," Hammer returned, dropping down to take a seat beside her. "Why have all this strength if I don't use it every once in a while…well, other than to bash in the faces of bandits and the like," her laughter boomed through the clearing.

Garth just tutted quietly, obviously opposed to her barbaric outlook on life, and he sent a small ball of flame into the arrangement of wood once Sparrow was finished setting up.

As Hammer yammered on about her latest triumph over an entire gang of bandits, Sparrow found herself gazing deep into the fire and soaking up its heat. The air grew colder as the sun sank further into the horizon, and Alfie snuggled up closer for warmth.

She still felt badly about things with Alex, but as more time passed, it sunk in further that it was for the best. He deserved a chance to find someone who could love him in return. They would have to find a way to be amicable for Rose's sake, but perhaps things could still work through friendship rather than love.

The talk with Garth had proven to be more cathartic than she would have guessed. She found herself able to tune into Hammer's stories once more and even crack a smile.

"Well, I'm beat," Hammer sighed, slapping her knee and glancing off in the direction of the tent. "We'll make it to your place tomorrow, right Garth?"

"Oh, we're very close," Garth assured her, and his eyes turned toward Sparrow. "I suggest you get some rest, as well. I'll keep watch over the camp, for now."

"I'll take the next shift, then," Hammer volunteered, climbing to her feet. "Just wake me up when you're ready to turn in."

Garth nodded, and he offered a helping hand out toward Sparrow and assisted her to stand when she took it.

"Good night," Sparrow said with a soft nod and a smile. "And thank you."

He bowed his head congenially.

She made her way toward the tent she'd be sharing with Alfie, crawled inside, and settled against the bedroll. Fatigue lingered in her muscles and in her mind. Perhaps a nice rest would do wonders for her attitude. Speaking with Garth had already lessened her sadness, and perhaps with time, she could find a part of herself that could be happy.

She closed her eyes, and she drifted off to sleep much easier than she had in a long time.

* * *

><p>The trio had been forced to sneak around to another entrance to the tower, and just as Garth had suspected, the place was crawling with Spire Guards. They were posted at nearly every entry point, and getting in without a fight would be impossible.<p>

"Lucien's men," Garth said quietly. "They're looking for me."

"_And_ me," Sparrow added somberly, drawing her pistol and making sure it was properly loaded. She was ready for this fight.

"They're between us and the Cullis Gate," Garth continued. "We'll have to fight our way through."

A smile splayed across Hammer's face, and the joy was apparent in her voice. "Just how I like it."

"Reckon I can take out those guards on the bridge before they know what's happening?" Sparrow asked with a playful smile of her own. She took aim at the first guard on the bridge, and she glanced between Garth and Hammer, as if to signal them that the fight was about to start.

Her gunfire blared through the area, and when the first guard fell stone-dead from the wound between his eyes, the other guards from The Spire went on full alert. She picked them off one by one, each bullet striking its target near-perfectly, and when the bridge was cleared, they hurried around the winding path down the side of the hill, making haste toward the bridge.

More guards spilled from the entrance, and Hammer rushed forward to meet them, swinging her weapon in a brutal, bone-cracking arc. Four of the guards fell from her single swing, and Sparrow gunned down a few of the stragglers. Garth, in an immense show of will, sent a crackling wave of electricity across the ground, catching the remaining guards and they fell to the ground, dead but twitching.

"We make quite the team, eh?" Hammer noted, hoisting the weapon for which she had been nicknamed over her shoulder.

"I'm surprised to say that I agree," Garth said with a nod. "I wonder if we will even need this fourth Hero to take down Lucien."

"Theresa says he's crucial," Sparrow said. "If we're this strong now, just imagine just how much stronger we will be after he joins us?"

They continued forward, pushing into the tower and toward the spiral staircase leading up to the roof. More guards rushed toward them in a single file down the spiral steps, but Sparrow threw out her arm, sending a wave of force to throw them aside. A few toppled down off of the stairs, cracking their necks on the way down, but Sparrow drew her katana on the remaining men, her speed and focus ensuring that the guards did not land a single blow.

"You're just as impressive with a sword as you are with a pistol," Garth remarked. "And your Will is strong. Theresa was right in saying that you're the perfect balance between the 3 disciplines."

"Come on," Hammer urged. "This is no time for stroking egos. We've still gotta make it to Bloodstone!"

They reached the roof to find that it was clear, and that worried Sparrow. She wondered how the next attackers would approach, for she doubted it would be as easy as this.

"I will need to concentrate to start the gate," Garth said, moving toward the dormant portcullis platform. "I must rely on the two of you to watch my back."

"Of course," Sparrow said, readying herself again, flicking the blood off of her blade and ensuring that her pistol was once again, fully loaded.

"Oh sure," Hammer snorted. "We'll do all the work while you sit there and think. Let me know when it's _my_ turn for a break, will you?"

The air around Garth crackled with magic and energy, but out of the corner of her eye, Sparrow caught sight of something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Is that…a Shard?" Hammer asked, her eyes widening.

Dark energy peeled off of it in waves, and it made Sparrow's stomach churn with unease. It had the heart-like pulse that The Spire had, and it reminded her too much of that place. She tried to banish the dread, but the feeling built in her gut like a bubble of pure fear.

Garth turned his concentration from the portcullis to the Old Kingdom artifact floating toward them menacingly. "Amazing, isn't it?"

"A sunset's amazing," Hammer scoffed. "That thing's a bloody nightmare."

Sparrow gulped, and she readied herself.

"We have a small advantage," Garth said. "They don't want us dead."

Lightning crackled from the edges of The Shard, striking the floor around them.

"I know that's supposed to be comforting, but it's not," Hammer growled, gripping her hammer more fiercely, preparing for the fight. Her eyes widened as Spire Guards materialized within the circle of electricity. "And it's not alone. It's brought its own army."

Sparrow ran into the fray, swinging her sword and firing her pistol all at once. She was a whirlwind of strength and skill, and when she unleashed a ring of fire, she felt truly lost in the chaos of battle. It was almost relaxing. She felt more at home with her sword and pistol in hand than she did anywhere else.

"I'll have this thing up in no time!" Garth called over the chaos.

"Garth!" Hammer yelled. "Look out!"

A group of six guards were approaching him quickly, and Sparrow used her Will to carry her toward them in the blink of an eye. She appeared behind one of them, and she drove her sword through his back, eliciting a soft squeal from the guard before he fell limp and slid off of her blade. She fired relentlessly into the rest of the guards, each shot finding its mark with unmatched accuracy.

"That wasn't supposed to happen!" Garth snarled in frustration. "Damnit!"

Hammer, ever vigilant of her surroundings shouted another warning, "Look out! There are more coming from the other tower!"

Sparrow didn't need another word. She rushed to the guards and a flurry of Will-summoned blades exploded out from her. The guards yelled and shrieked, but she had no mercy for them. They were loyal to Lucien, and they were in her way to defeating him.

Another guard, one that looked very much like The Commandant appeared, his red eyes finding hers. He summoned a trail of spikes, and Sparrow was barely able to avoid it. She was knocked flat on her back, and terror gripped her as the menacing copy of her tormentor approached. She tried to crawl away backwards, but he was drawing his sword with a look of determination chiseled into his cold features. He obviously knew precisely who she was.

Hammer intercepted him, sending a hammer blow to his chest that likely collapsed his ribcage. He fell easily, unable to avoid her strength, and Sparrow felt a sort of relief wash over her. She leaped back to her feet with a smooth, practiced agility, and she threw herself back into battle.

"Alright!" Garth breathed raggedly. "I'm nearly done!"

Sparrow lunged out of the way of a guard's sword and caught him by the wrist, driving her own blade between his ribs.

"We're close. Just a few more adjustments."

Sparrow saw another Commandant out of the corner of her eye, but instead of letting her fear grip her, she charged at him, screaming with fury as she peppered him with shots from her pistol. With a well-placed shot and a blow to the chest, he was as dead as the others.

"GO NOW!" she heard Garth call from the portal. "INTO THE GATE!"

She rushed, throwing herself into the blinding white light, and she felt Alfie leap in after her. She felt almost nauseous as the magic carried her away from Brightwood. She felt her energy draining the longer she traveled, and when she felt the stone of the pedestal beneath her feat, she collapsed.

She rolled onto her back, trying to catch her breath, but it felt like she had just run a mile in a few short moments. Her heart pounded, and her head ached. Her stomach turned with queasiness, and she exhaled. She'd never gone such a long distance through a cullis gate before, and it was not something she looked forward to doing again.

"Can you hear me?" asked Theresa's voice through the Guild Seal.

Sparrow couldn't find the strength to reply. She tried uselessly to push herself up into a sitting position, but she feet approaching through the mud. Torchlight cast its glow around her, and she tried, with bleary vision to look at who approached.

"Well, well, well," a gruff voice asked. "What have we got here?" The accent implied he'd spent time in the seas, but he was obviously old and frail. Though, that did not matter because Sparrow didn't believe she could have fought off even a fly at that particular moment.

Her vision grew darker and darker, and she could feel his thin, bony hands grasping at her, trying to lift her into his weak arms. She tried to squirm in protest, but her muscles betrayed her. She couldn't move. She couldn't fight. All she could do was lay back and hope that Garth and Hammer would come soon after.

There was a deep, throaty chuckle and then nothing.

**A/N: Okay, so this one took a bit to post, and I apologize. I've had tons of stuff to do lately, but I'm glad that this was finally able to get finished and polished up by my awesome beta, Angelacm. I have a jump start on the next few chapters, so hopefully, we will see more timely updates. T**

**o my readers, thank you for reading, and please leave me a review to let me know what you think. It really helps motivate me!**


	5. Through the Mist

**Chapter Five: Through the Mist**

Sparrow opened her eyes to find herself inside of a familiar-looking cage. It was the kind of cart that slavers used to transport their cargo, and she pushed herself to a sitting position. Her head was still spinning, but she had mostly recovered from the ordeal that brought her to Wraithmarsh. She glanced around. She was alone. No Hammer, no Garth, not even Alfie. Something must have happened to keep them from coming. She could only hope that they were victorious at the battle at Brightwood Tower, and that they had not become Lucien's prisoners.

Her captor approached. She saw the light of his torch through the fog before she saw him, but when he got close enough she saw that he was an older man; likely a retired pirate or sailor. He smirked menacingly as he approached the cage.

"Is it alive?" he chuckled, his eyes full of malice. "You had a dog with you, there like." He laughed, but it was followed up by a long, hacking cough. "It ran off into the fog. The banshees'll have it by now."

He laughed some more, and it ignited a rage inside of Sparrow.

"Aye. You've seen the last of that mongrel, I can tell you," he said with an affirmative nod. His eyes drifted up and down her body, taking in her adventurer's attire. "You from Bloodstone, eh?"

He inspected her more closely, leaning close to the cage. "No…no. You ain't got the stink of it about you. 'Tis a wicked place. Would be burnt to the ground if there was any justice."

He paused once more, as if giving something some intense thought.

"So, what do I do about you?" His mouth turned up into a wide grin, exposing diseased gums and yellow teeth. "I suppose I'll burn you as well." He laughed again, waving his torch teasingly at her.

Before Sparrow could speak in protest, she saw that the fog was rolling in thicker—like a blanket of pure white. It nearly enveloped them, and she heard a howl and a scream off in the distance.

Her captor's face screwed up with confusion, but then it relaxed, as if he were under some spell. His eyes were blank, devoid of any of the rage or humor they'd once held before. He turned and walked into the fog without another word.

There were a few moments when Sparrow wondered what would happen. She'd heard tales of Banshees, of course, but she did not know them to actually exist. But then again, in a world full of Hollow Men and gargoyles that taunted you in every corner of Albion, could the fact that there might be Banshees be so hard to believe?

Suddenly the old man's voice broke through the thick mist "No—no, please!"

A blood-curdling scream rang through the area, sending a chill down Sparrow's spine, and her captor's screaming soon joined it. His cries for help faded into a dying gurgle, and then there was silence. She ran forward, gripping the bars, trying to get a better look. That thing would undoubtedly come for her next, but she had no weapons, no key to the cell. She was trapped.

But the fog receded. It pulled away, seemingly returning to whatever creature had summoned it, and she could see far into the marshes, now. The old man's body was nowhere to be found, and she wondered what fate had befallen him.

Theresa's voice came from the guild seal, "You should be able to hear me now."

Sparrow was thankful to hear Theresa's voice. "I can hear you."

"You're alive," Theresa breathed, obviously relieved. "The cullis gate malfunctioned, and Hammer and Garth were sent back to the Guild."

"Thank the Light," Sparrow found herself murmuring, heaving yet another sigh of relief.

"You've made it to Wraithmarsh, but you're on your own for now," Theresa said.

At that moment, Alfie came bounding toward her cage, carrying a large ring of keys in his mouth, his tail wagging in excitement. He'd done a good job, and he knew it. She was relieved that he'd avoided danger, and she was relieved that he had brought her the way out of this cell.

"Well, you're not entirely on your own," Theresa amended her statement. "But Hammer and Garth cannot reach you. "

Sparrow reached through the bars to grab the keys from Alfie, giving him an approving pat on the head along the way. She worked at unlocking the door, but found it difficult to do from the inside. She finally managed to find the lock, and she freed herself from the cage.

It didn't take much effort to find her cloak and weapons, and as she was continuing to ready herself, she heard Theresa speak again.

"Be wary, Sparrow," she warned. "The fog here is unnatural. Somehow it dampens the Guild seal."

"I will be fine," Sparrow assured her, much like a child assures her mother. In many ways, Theresa was like a mother to her. "I can take care of myself. You've taught me well."

"Bloodstone is on the far side of the marshes," said Theresa. "I suggest you head there quickly."

She glanced down to Alfie to see that he was now hesitant to venture further, so she patted him reassuringly on the head.

"Come on, now," Sparrow said, trying to sound chipper. "We can get through this. It's just a bit of mud and fog."

Sparrow realized the danger that lay between them and Bloodstone, but she hoped they would be able to overcome any obstacle that might be thrown their way. She had to. If she didn't, everything she had sacrificed would have been in vain.

The air had an unnatural chilly bite to it, and she pulled her cloak further around her body as they started their descent into the heart of the dark, unearthly place.

Her thoughts wandered between what lay behind her and what lay ahead. She wondered whether Alex had told Rose that their marriage had ended, or if everything hinged upon whether she returned from this string of quests or not.

She could only hope that Rose would one day understand that what had happened was for the best. Sparrow couldn't love Alex the way he deserved to be loved, and she didn't think it would be right to keep him bound to her any longer.

As she looked around, she thought this might have been a small village once. The small huts and houses were long-abandoned, and time had not been kind to them. The buildings were crumbling—crushed beneath the weight of time and whatever evil roamed around this place.

A chill reverberated down her spine, and that thick, ominous fog rolled out once more. Her heart felt as if it stopped beating, and she heard the first shrill shriek of a Banshee. She reached for her Katana, then for her pistol.

She had never faced a Banshee, but she hoped that they would fall to her blade, pistol, and magicjust as any other foe would. Her stomach clenched with anxiety, but she stood stalwart, ready for the fight to come.

The thing emerged from the billowing fog, ghastly and skeletal, draped in blood-red robes and reaching thin, sharp-looking fingers toward her.

"_Succumb to my embrace…"_ It whispered and screamed all at once. The sound of its voice sent another cold stab through Sparrow's body. She felt the dark presence of the being permeate her, invading her mind, her heart, her soul.

The Banshee held out her arms, both beckoning and summoning. Small dark figures crawled from the deep mud, gripping weapons made of pure shadow. The figures were fashioned as children, and as they drew closer, she saw that each of them had her daughter's face.

_"Your daughter hates you; she will grab a blade in the night and plunge it through your heart." _

With those words, the shadow children attacked, shrieking and crying out with bloodlust. Sparrow hesitated at first, put off by the fact that each one looked like little Rose, but soon enough, her mind cleared and she was able to tell herself that these were not her daughter.

She started firing and swinging her blade in tandem. They seemed to be protecting the Banshee, who looked on, continuing to taunt Sparrow.

_"You think you're a hero? Taking orders from a weak, old, blind woman; don't you have a mind of your own?"_

The last of the shadow children fell, and the Banshee screeched as she flew forward at lightning speed.

Sparrow aimed a few shots into the seemingly empty hood of the Banshee, and it recoiled, gasping with obvious pain. Her blade connected with the torso of the creature, and it withdrew quickly, summoning more of the dark creatures to come to her aid.

This time, Sparrow was fiercer in her assault against them. Alfie yipped and lunged at one, taking it down, and she shot the last of them down.

She and the Banshee rushed toward each other, and Sparrow emptied her gun into it. She jabbed her blade through the Banshee's chest, and it let out a head-splitting howl of defeat as it faded away to nothing.

Alfie bounded to her side, as if to assess her for any wounds or damage.

"I'm fine, boy," Sparrow assured him, out of breath. "Let's keep going."

As she continued further, she saw a large over-head bridge in the distance, and she wondered what type of place this once was.

"This used to be Oakvale," said Theresa through the seal, as if knowing what Sparrow had been thinking. "Though, it has changed radically since I saw it last."

There was a long, pregnant pause.

"And that was a long time ago. It has seen many a cruel deed," Theresa's voice turned slightly more solemn. "Six-hundred years ago, bandits attacked the village and burned it to the ground. The survivors rebuilt their lives…only to have them destroyed a second and final time."

A Hollow Man emerged from the tree line and shuffled toward Sparrow, murderous intent clear in its dead eyes. Sparrow fired a shot with extreme precision right through one of those eyes, and it fell backward, never to rise again.

"A new threat came from within," explained Theresa as Sparrow continued further through the remnants of Oakvale. "A reckless young villager made a deal with the forces of Shadow, who took the lives of every other resident as payment."

More Hollow Men approached, but Sparrow waged battle against them, the movements as easy as breathing. She fought and listened to Theresa's tale at the same time.

"All his family. All of his friends, everyone he loved…." She paused. "And now the marsh has engulfed the village, and Oakvale is nothing but a bitter memory."

Sparrow remembered the song Hammer often sang on the road. It referred to Oakvale—to sirens and balverines. She wondered what horrible fate the Shadows had inflicted upon the village and what selfish man had bargained with their lives.

She passed through the marsh more quickly, now. Her adrenaline was rushing from the fights, and she was not phased when she was attacked by an onslaught of Hollow Men, or another Banshee, or even the fearsome troll that lay in wait toward the end of her trek.

When she finally stepped onto the road leading away from Wraithmarsh and toward Bloodstone, she felt invigorated. Perhaps a good fight or a dozen was necessary to help her feel more like herself. She stowed her weapons.

"Bloodstone will be another 15 hour walk from where you are," Theresa informed her. "I suggest taking a short rest before—"

"I can rest in a proper inn when I get there," Sparrow said "I don't think I would be able to rest at the moment."

"Yes, of course," Theresa replied. "Be careful on the road, Sparrow. Bloodstone is a lawless town, and lawless people roam the roads around it."

"I think I can sort out a few bandits and pirates, " said Sparrow, reassuringly. "I'll be fine."

* * *

><p>"The largest house in Bloodstone—that'll be Reaver's," guided Theresa. "I suggest you go and make the thief's acquaintance."<p>

As she descended into the city, she noticed a pungent stench of the raw ocean at high tide. That must have been what the old man in Wraithmarsh had been talking about. The cobbled roads were peppered with harlots and pirates, thugs and wenches. There were no guards to be seen, as expected, yet the people didn't seem to live in a constant state of chaos, as she might have thought.

The first Inn she came to was called The Mermaid's Legs, and she found herself a seat at an empty table toward the back. She figured that it would probably be rather easy to find general information about Reaver, but if he had a strong hold on the town as Theresa had implied, it might be difficult to find someone that might divulge the sort of information she truly needed.

She needed to get in contact with him, gain entry to his home somehow. It was unlikely that The Pirate King simply let people wander into his house off of the streets. When the barmaid came by to ask what she'd like to drink, Sparrow reached for the purse in her rucksack.

I'd like a pint of ale," Sparrow said with a nod.

"Anything else, love?"

"Actually, yes," she said, looking up toward the barmaid's pretty face. "I'm looking for information about Reaver."

The barmaid cocked a dark eyebrow, and she snorted. "And why should I give it to you?"

Sparrow pulled three gold coins from her purse. "Because I have plenty more gold I can take elsewhere."

The woman bit her lip, glancing around for anyone who might snitch on her if she were caught shelling out information on The Pirate King. When she found that the only two in the whole tavern were Sparrow and herself, she nodded. "Alright then. Let's have it."

Sparrow handed over the gold, and she stowed her purse back on her belt. "I have a business proposal for Reaver. How do I get in contact with him?"

"His house is the biggest one on the hill," she said. "You can find him there most nights."

"That's common knowledge," Sparrow snorted, crossing her arms.

"I think three gold coins only buys common knowledge."

Sparrow glared at the woman, her eyes growing cold. "I can either reach for this purse when you've given me more information…or…" She grabbed her pistol from its holster, and she laid it on the table in front of her. "I can reach for this when you don't."

The new offer on the table seemed to convince the maid to be more compliant.

"You two will get along just fine, I see," She grumbled. "Oh, alright. If you want to get in to see Reaver, you have to…catch his attention."

"What do you mean?"

The maid looked her up and down, her pale eyes full of judgment. "Well, sorry, love, but you ain't doin' it like that. Reaver's got a real hunger for pretty women…or men. He's open-minded."

"And your point is?"

"Tart yourself up a bit, and you might find yourself havin' an audience with him," the maid laughed. "You'd be real pretty if it weren't for the…" She motioned generally to Sparrow's hair. Her eyes then dropped to Sparrow's bosom, squinting at what potential might lay beneath her fully-buttoned shirt. "And you've got to really put those out on display. He likes that, y'see?"

"And how do you know?"

The maid smirked. "How do you think?" Winking suggestively, she held out her hand, expecting her payment.

Sparrow handed over the three gold, plus a few copper for the ale, and she sat back in her seat. So, she'd have to use _sex appeal_ to gain his attention. She knew that with effort, it would not be hard. There were times when all eyes in a village would be on her, staring either enviously or lustfully. Since her return from Lucien's wretched construct, there had been a lot less of that.

Tomorrow, perhaps, after a bit of rest, she would go to the salon and see what could be done. Beneath the grime and filth of Wraithmarsh, she was still beautiful, but it would take a lot of effort to erase the aura of pain and torment that seemed to follow her around like her own personal rain cloud.

She finished off her ale, and after arranging a room for the night, she turned in. The next day would be a long one, but the end was now in sight. Reaver was the last of the Heroes she would have to recruit. After he was on board, they would have the power to defeat Lucien once and for all, and she could return to Rose.

She just needed to captivate The Pirate King.


	6. The King of Thieves

**Chapter Six: The King of Thieves**

When Sparrow visited the tailor's, she decided that she would stick to adventurer's clothing, though a little more revealing than what she'd been wearing in the past. She had little choice, actually. They didn't stock anything that was not overtly provocative.

Shorts that barely covered her rear were paired with a tight, though surprisingly sturdy, leather corset over a white scoop-necked blouse, and a pair of boots that covered to nearly her mid-thigh. It was all surprisingly comfortable, yet the feeling of having so much exposed was something to get used to.

She stepped into the stylist, next. The woman was sweeping the floor, and her eyes widened with hope when she saw Sparrow, as if she knew that transforming her would earn her a pretty bit of silver.

"What can I do for you, love?" the plump older woman asked, her eyes darting absolutely everywhere, the thoughts and ideas almost clear in her eyes.

"I…" Sparrow froze. "I'm not sure. I want to look more…."

"Ah…you want to catch the attention of a bloke, don'ya?" she asked.

Sparrow smiled wryly, running her hand over the short, shaggy waves of her cropped hair. "Something like that."

"Have a seat here, you," she said, patting a padded stool next to the wash basin. Her eyes took her in, but they settled on the soft, short curls of her hair. "The color is lovely, like spun gold, so I don't think we should change that…Just let me just give us a little something more to work with."

As Sparrow took the seat, the woman set off searching through various bottles of dyes and potions until she came across the one she wanted. She shook the bottle lightly, and she scurried back toward the Hero, her face seemingly eager to work her magic.

"What's your name, child?"

"Sparrow."

"Sparrow," she said in a warm tone. "What a unique name. It's quite pretty. It suits you."

She leaned Sparrow over the basin, pouring a basin of tepid water over Sparrow's hair, plastering the minimal curls to her head. Then came the potion—the whole bottle. The stylist's hands worked gently, lathering the potion into a thick white cloud of suds. The more she lathered, the more hair there was to lather.

The stylist, who introduced herself as Mrs. Darby as she went to work, gabbed on about her husband, her children, and life in Bloodstone. She seemed content to speak to a silent, captive audience, but Sparrow did indulge her with a few small smiles of acknowledgement every so often.

When Mrs. Darby seemed satisfied with the progress, she grabbed another basin of warmish water and poured it over the mass of sodden, golden waves. The growth came to a halt, but Sparrow still had yet to see how much hair had been grown.

She patted Sparrow's head dry, wrapping her hair up in a surprisingly plush towel, and she urged Sparrow into the large tub, for which she'd somehow managed to prepare a proper bath during her flurry of movement prior to working on Sparrow's hair.

"Just soak in there for a bit, dearie," Mrs. Darby said, patting Sparrow's cheek almost affectionately.

Sparrow wondered what such a sweet woman was doing in Bloodstone. She didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the populace. Pirates and whores, fools and tricksters. This was a gentle, affectionate, enthusiastic woman.

The water Mrs. Darby had drawn was perfumed and smelled divine. She would definitely be able to erase the stench of both the port city and the marshes through which she'd traveled. She sunk into the water after undressing, and she could feel her muscles relax and the tension melt away.

"So who is the man?" Mrs. Darby asked, setting off to empty the basins as Sparrow soaked. "You seem a lovely woman…a bit tall, but lovely. He'd better be worthy of you." She grinned broadly.

"Reaver," Sparrow said, taking the sponge in the bath to give her neck a gentle scrubbing. "Have you ever met him?"

Mrs. Darby froze in place, and her eyes became very solemn. "No, love. I haven't, but I've heard plenty about him." She made her way back toward Sparrow. "What would a sweet young flower want with that knave?"

Sparrow couldn't reveal herself—even to someone so seemingly sweet. She would have to play the part of the smitten young thing, she supposed.

"I've heard tales of his adventures," Sparrow said. "And I've also heard that he's likely one of the most handsome men in Albion."

"I won't deny that," Mrs. Darby said. "I've seen him from afar, and he is quite the pretty lad. But, why would you waste your attention on such a scoundrel of a man. If you've heard of his adventures, then you've likely heard of his cruelty."

Sparrow had heard that Reaver had a reputation for being especially cutthroat and slippery, but he was also probably the greatest shot that had ever lived. In the tavern the night before, she'd heard legend of how he would take hold of a ship by gunning down the captain no matter how far away or what the weather was like. He was fabled to have a quick hand and an even quicker tongue…and a fondness for beauty of either gender.

Sparrow only hoped she could capture his attention, if only long enough to convince him to join the cause again Lucien.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Darby sighed. "It would be so much easier if you were plain. I would tell you to knock yourself out trying to gain his attention, but you…" She sighed. "You might actually do it, and I fear what would be in store for you."

"I assure you, Mrs. Darby," Sparrow said with a small comforting smile. "I have been around more dangerous men than Reaver."

"Sweet Light, child," Mrs. Darby breathed, her eyes widening. "Why?"

"I seem to have no other choice but to surround myself with danger," Sparrow said. "It's my fate."

"I believe your fate is what you make it," Mrs. Darby said. "Why, when I earn the gold to leave Bloodstone, you bet I will. The only reason my family and I ever came here was because when my husband set off to work building that Spire, his sister offered to help me care for the children in his absence."

Her face was sad, and in her heart, Sparrow could decipher the reason. Mrs. Darby likely hadn't heard from her husband, and Sparrow knew why. He was undoubtedly dead, and it was possible that Sparrow had been the one to burn his body.

Suddenly, the bathwater felt cold as ice, and her insides clenched with sadness.

"Why, whatever is the matter, dear?" Mrs. Darby asked. "You've gone white as a sheet."

Sparrow blinked, allowing her façade of warmth to cross her features, and she offered a smile. "The water's gone a bit chilly, is all."

"Well, let's get you out, then," Mrs. Darby said. "Can't have you catching cold, now."

* * *

><p>When they were through, Sparrow's golden hair reached nearly to the middle of her back. Mrs. Darby had been intent to cut it, but she claimed it was perfect as it was. She merely teased the waves into compliance and pulled it away from her face.<p>

Mrs. Darby had shown her such kindness, even going as far to offering her a place at her table whenever she wished.

Sparrow still felt rather conflicted about Mrs. Darby's husband, but there was nothing that could be done. Sparrow had gold, and she had Strength and Skill and Will. But none of those would bring the dead back to life. None of those would undo the damage that had been done by Lucien.

When Mrs. Darby was turned, Sparrow used her extreme deftness of hand to slip enough coin to buy passage on a ship for her and her three children to Bowerstone. She also had a note with an address—a house that Sparrow would rent her. All Mrs. Darby would need to do was go, and Sparrow hoped she would.

Sparrow knew that there were many people in the same situation, but helping Mrs. Darby, who had shown her such kindness, was a small comfort. She had to have her emotions in check. She was unsure of what she might need to do in order to convince Reaver to join her.

She started the trek toward the largest house in Bloodstone. She was a lot more nervous than she expected. If Reaver picked a fight, she was not sure she could subdue him in his own town. It was a shame Hammer and Garth had been left behind in Brightwood.

She hadn't equipped her favored katana, but she kept her pistol hanging at her hip, just in case. She was quick and had the advantage of Will powers, and hopefully she would be quick enough, should the worst come to pass.

When she saw the gate was guarded, Sparrow cursed softly under her breath. She would have to come up with some excuse to get inside. She doubted that they would simply let her in without some sort of explanation.

She suddenly remembered that she was wearing probably the tartiest outfit she'd ever worn, so she pushed the collar of her blouse off of her shoulders. She rolled the fabric of her shorts even further, exposing more skin between her rear and the top of her boot. Adjusting her breasts beneath the shirt, she pushed them together, showing a great deal more of the cleavage than she would on any other occasion.

She felt slightly degraded, but hopefully it would work. The true test would be whether she could cause enough distraction among the guards at the gates.

She approached, and she instantly felt their eyes on her. The taller of the two, who was just barely taller than Sparrow, swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat. The short, plump man turned beet red, and tugged at his collar.

"You got business with Reaver?" the tall one managed to ask.

"He didn't tell you?" Sparrow asked, batting her eyelashes intentionally. She let a soft, playful smile creep across her mouth. "He invited me here…to show me his home."

She put her hands on her hips, drawing attention to the faintest bit of midriff that peeked between her corset and the waistband of her shorts.

"Uh…"

"His _bedroom_ specifically," Sparrow said, lowering her voice into a sultry tone. She chewed on her lower lip and raised a hand to play through the ends of her silken hair.

"He didn't tell us anything," the round one piped up, his eyes still eagerly taking all of her in.

"Well, why don't you ask him?" Sparrow bluffed, hoping that the tales of Reaver's impatience and short temper would work to her advantage. "I'm sure he would not mind taking time out of his schedule to answer your questions."

The pair of guards looked nervously at each other. They both looked hesitant, and their silent conversation ended with a soft nod from each guard.

"Oh!" the tall one said. "I think I _do_ remember him saying someone would be coming."

Sparrow smiled warmly. "I thought so."

"Open the gate, Harry!" the tall one hissed to his portly companion.

Harry scuttled to the side, moving to swing the large, iron gate open, allowing Sparrow to step between them.

"Thank you so much," Sparrow said warmly, shooting them a wink over her shoulder as she passed the by. "Perhaps I'll see you two again very soon."

They both nodded eagerly and closed the gate before returning to their duties, watching Sparrow as she walked away, their eyes fixed decidedly on her rear end.

Sparrow nearly laughed from the over-acting she'd been doing, but she kept it up, allowing her hips to sway dramatically as she made her way through the courtyard.

The mansion was certainly grand, and it was old, as well. From what she could tell, it was well-maintained both inside and out, and another guard stood watch over the front door.

"Hey, lass! You got business with Reaver?" he asked, his eyes scanning her body. Without even waiting for a reply, he smirked knowingly and nodded toward the door. "He's through the back."

The guard opened the door, and Sparrow's assumptions were confirmed. Everything was gilded, gaudy, yet tasteful all at once. She took in her surroundings. There was fine art hung beside golden, jewel-encrusted sconces. It smelled a lot less rank than the world outside, and Sparrow found herself immensely thankful.

She glanced down the hallway to see a statuesque man posing with his pistol drawn. His chin was tilted upward, and his lean frame perfectly poised for something. As she ventured further, she saw that a sculptor worked diligently to capture him in a large slab of marble.

She moved closer, finally catching her first full glimpse of his face, and she was surprised just how accurate the rumors of his beauty were. He had a square, chiseled jaw with a perfect cleft in his chin. His cheekbones were high and angular, and one cheek was adorned with a beauty mark. His eyebrows were dark and dramatic, drawing attention to his eyes, which were a startling shade of crystalline blue.

Those eyes turned away from the sculptor to find her, and they seemed to glimmer with giddiness. Perhaps Reaver was impressed, or perhaps he was eager for the prospect of slaying an intruder. She couldn't be sure.

"Well…" he said, his voice full of a sultry joy. "Hello, there!"

"Hello," Sparrow greeted him, not totally sure what to say. She probably should have thought this part over a little more thoroughly.

"Always a nice surprise to have company," Reaver said turning his head full on to meet with her gaze. If his eyes had been startling and intense before, they were infinitely more, at that moment. He scrutinized her, appraising every inch. "I don't get many visitors to my little coastal paradise."

She blinked, her heart suddenly pounding in her throat. She felt unhinged under his close inspection, and she felt a deep flush spread across her skin.

"Especially ones who might well redefine a man's concept of paradise," he said, a dazzling grin spreading across his mouth.

"Ah…erm…" Sparrow mumbled, feeling flustered. "Thank you."

His grin grew wider, his superbly white teeth on full display. "And a brilliant conversationalist. I look forward to hours of _scintillating_ pillow talk."

His eyes were wandering once more, in apparent appreciation now, and he moistened his lips gently with his tongue, drawing Sparrow's attention, yet again, to his mouth. He tilted his head slightly, trying not to dampen the integrity of his pose, all while silently beckoning her closer.

Her pulse quickened, and she took a few steps closer.

"You don't look much like a sailor with such fair skin," Reaver noted. "So that means you trekked through Wraithmarsh to arrive in Bloodstone." He looked vaguely impressed.

"Yes, I did," she said.

"On the rare occasion that people make it through Wraithmarsh, they're lost, confused…scared," he said, his voice dropping into a dramatic, chilling timbre. The light came back to his face and he smiled again. "But not you. You're looking for someone."

"I am."

"And if you're looking for someone in Bloodstone, let's be honest: you're looking for _me_."

He broke his pose, holstering his magnificent pistol, which she recognized to be one of the legendary Dragonstomper .48 pistols—one of only six in the world.

"I've come to seek your aid in a quest," she finally piped up. "Lucien Fairfax—"

"An adventurer….I should have _known_." Reaver's light-hearted expression was gone in an instant, as if daring to ask him for help was crossing the line. "But I'm afraid I hate wasting time with nobodies. That's _you_."

"But—"

"Tell you what. Why don't you go out there and rescue some travelers, or slay some beasts," he said, putting his hands on his hips. "Or slay some travelers…the details are unimportant."

She was utterly taken aback by his words. Was he really going to make her wait until he thought she was sufficiently worthy of his time?

He stepped closer, bringing a hand to push a stray blonde wave away from her face and smirking. He was mere inches from her, and she found herself craning her chin upward to meet his gaze. "Prove to me that you're worth dealing with, and you'll have my _full_ attention."

His fingers in her hair made her heart come to a complete halt. She hadn't allowed many people this close to her since her return to Albion, and it was unsettling. Not in the usual anxious, nauseous sort of way, but in a hot, pulse-pounding way. "But—"

He whipped her around, facing her toward the door. "That's it. Tsst! Scoot!"

"Wait, but-!" She tried to get a word in, but he absolutely would not have it.

He gave her a hefty smack to her behind, his hand lingering to cup it momentarily, but he then pushed her forward, encouraging her to leave. "_Vamoose. Geh weg! Allez-vous en_!"

She glanced back over her shoulder at him, and he was smirking again. She closed the door behind her, and she sighed. This would prove to be more difficult than merely stampeding into his house with the false pretense of seduction, not that she had been a very convincing seductress anyway. She would have to earn a reputation among the citizens of Bloodstone. She would have to work for this, as she had done for everything else in her life.

Reaver laughed with amusement on the other side of the door.

"Do you think my buttocks look like _that_?" he asked.

The gunshot startled her, and she nearly turned back to see what had transpired, but the wiser, more level-headed part of her told her to do as he asked. Theresa had told her that Lucien would not be defeated without the aid of Reaver. She would simply have to indulge his eccentricities for the time being.

She frowned, noticing that her pulse was still throbbing quickly through her body. She tried to chalk it up to nerves, but she knew it was all a lie. Reaver was the most attractive man she'd ever met, and despite his apparent insanity, her body had reacted to that.

Perhaps a nice dunk in a cold basin would ease the frustration rapidly building within her.

**A/N: Ah, I think this is what a great deal of us have been waiting for, and it was nice to be able to put it up! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, and fear not, for I have a few more chapters to put up soon enough! Leave me some reviews to let me know what you think so far, and I will do my best to update as quickly as possible! **


	7. A Piece of Darkness

**Chapter Seven: A Piece of Darkness**

It was two weeks before people started to recognize Sparrow on the streets. The common folk cheered her, but the criminals slid by, trying to avoid her gaze. It seemed that finding Captain Dread's lost treasures and ridding Bloodstone of Sam and Max's summoned Banshee had been sufficient for her to become the talk off the town.

In the time she had been busy questing, she noticed that the salon that had once been Mrs. Darby's was vacant, a sign on the door indicating that she and her family had moved. Sparrow was glad to see that she had taken the opportunity she provided.

She had written a letter to her daughter, telling her the stories about Captain Dread that she'd heard, but she toned them done quite a bit, for Alex's sake. She hoped that the letter found Rose well, and that she enjoyed it.

Sparrow sighed. Once again, she was making that journey to the largest house on the hill.

Reaver's house.

She'd seen him here and there around Bloodstone, but he'd never approached her or really taken notice of her. Maybe her plan to gain his respect hadn't worked, or maybe he had simply been giving her the run-around.

She let her hair down from its braid, hoping that perhaps looking more enticing would have a positive effect, as it had the visit before. She ruffled her hair and adjusted her breasts beneath her blouse, though for a fleeing second, her mind pondered that maybe she was doing this for her own benefit, rather than just his.

Sparrow pushed that from her mind. Reaver was charming—yes. Handsome—of course—but she needed to focus on the task at hand. Recruiting him was crucial. There was no way she could allow him to deny her. She would have to use any means necessary to gain his compliance.

Reaver's guards seemed to recognize her, for they threw the gate open without a single word, but their eyes gaped appreciatively at her, as she passed.

She thanked them with a soft smile before moving into the courtyard. The door was open and unguarded, so she let herself in. The entrance hall was also unguarded, but the door to Reaver's study was wide open.

She found him posing in exactly the same manner he'd been the first time she'd sought an audience with him, but instead of a sculptor, it was a painter who tried to capture the narcissistic pirate's visage. She didn't seem to be doing a very good job.

"You're back!" Reaver proclaimed, his eyes lighting up like jewels. "My men are positively buzzing with _interest_."

"Oh?" Sparrow asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"'Who is this person?' they ask. 'Have Heroes come back to Albion?' and blah blah blah and so on and so forth and I really don't care."

"So what was the point of all of this?" Sparrow asked.

A somewhat menacing smile uncurled on his mouth, and he continued, "You see, while you were out making your name a hou—a _hovel_-hold word, I discovered that you recently waltzed right out of Lucien's Spire."

"Yes," Sparrow confirmed. "I did."

"So unless I missed my guess—and incidentally, I never miss—you want me to help you waltz back in there and take him down," said Reaver, one eyebrow cocking upward.

"That's exactly what I want," she told him, taking a few steps closer. "There would likely be a great deal of gold and renown in it for you."

"I have both of those in spades, my dear," Reaver said, but he then paused, as if considering it further. He chuckled softly. "Hmmm…Tempting. Who knows what lovelies he has secreted away in there?"

"That's very true," Sparrow said, her heart suddenly full of hope that this would work—that he would join their effort. "You would, of course, be welcome to anything you wished after the task was done."

"But…here's the problem," Reaver said with a great sigh of exasperation. "You've done all sorts of impressive things, and yet you haven't really done anything that benefits _me_."

"What…what would you like me to do?" Sparrow asked.

"Now, that is an open question, Sparrow," Reaver chuckled. "There are _many _things I would like you to do…and almost none of them would involve those clothes of yours…."

A deep flush spread across her face, and her back straightened. She glanced to see that the painter was glancing interestedly from behind the canvas, her plain face obviously filled with jealousy.

"But wait," Reaver said, holding up a finger. "Perhaps there is something you can do for me. There's a certain item I need returned to its rightful owners in Wraithmarsh. They live in an enchanting place called The Shadow Court."

"Sounds…perilous," Sparrow remarked, crossing her arms over her chest. Perhaps he didn't mean for her to return. Perhaps getting rid of her would be the simplest way to avoid getting involved with the war against Lucien. She tapped her foot. "If it is important, why have you not yet done it?"

"I'd do it myself, but my relationship with the owners is…complicated," he continued, chewing his lower lip almost guiltily.

So he'd stolen this item, it seemed, and now she would have to return it for him, all while stomping through that horrible muck in the swamps of Wraithmarsh. Banshees and Hollowmen and Balverines would be there to keep her company, of course, which made her dread the idea even more.

"And while my associates here have their uses, most of them aren't terribly reliable," Reaver continued, now sounding like a victim of circumstance. "So how about this: you run this little errand for me, and then I'll assist you in your quest for… vengeance…or riches…or whatever it is that floats your particular boat."

"I'll do it," Sparrow agreed. "But when I return, we must leave Bloodstone immediately for Bower Lake."

"Splendid," He said, pointing to a desk in the corner. "The item I need returned is just there, see? See? See that little _objet d'art_?"

Sparrow moved toward the desk, and she saw a seal, very similar in size and shape to the guild seal passed down to her by Theresa, but it could not have been more different in every other way. The metal was jet black, and the center was encrusted with a swirl of shimmering red stones. There were jagged cut outs in the middle sharp enough to draw blood, but she carefully lifted it from its place. It was heavier than she expected, and with that, she imagined that this task would not be as simple as Reaver had made it out to be. This was a magical object, and its owners were not likely to be the type of magic practitioners to bless things and make them do good things.

No, this thing reeked of dark magic, and it set her stomach ill at ease.

"There's a good lass," Reaver cajoled, his lips pulled up into a grim, yet sweet-seeming smile. "Just come back and see me when you've dropped it off at The Shadow Court. Then, perhaps we can discuss all of those other things that I need you to do—the ones which do not require clothes." He chuckled. "Tatty-bye."

Sparrow tucked the seal into her satchel, and she left the room, without offering a word of departure. Her nerves were frazzled now. The task that lay ahead would undoubtedly be difficult, but she was totally unsure of what to expect. Would the owners be glad to have the object back, or would they inflict their wrath upon her for Reaver's theft?

She closed the door behind her, and she heard Reaver murmuring angrily at the artist.

"Are you really suggesting that my cheekbones are anywhere near that low?"

She was expecting the gunshot, but it still startled her. She, once again, ignored it, knowing that her task was more important than reprimanding a stubborn, childish Pirate King.

* * *

><p>She moved through Wraithmarsh like she was walking down any other road in Albion, now. It no longer held any unknown horrors for her. She had conquered the place twice. She expected the Hollow Men, the Banshees, the demented shadow children. All of it was easily dealt with.<p>

What she was not prepared for was the deep, foreboding feeling the seal in her pocket exuded. The closer she got to her destination, the more it weighed on her. It was a dark, wicked artifact, and frankly, she was eager to be rid of it. If the owners wanted to pick a fight, she was more than prepared.

Alfie loped back and forth in the marsh, also seeming to have gotten used to the fog and damp. Sometimes he would lead her toward treasure that had been long-abandoned, and sometimes he would lead her to a straggling Hollow Man.

Though, when they finally found themselves in front of a huge, dark temple, Alfie backed away, whining, his posture showing that he was truly afraid.

Sparrow could feel it, too. Fear and darkness rippled around it like smoke off of a flame. It sent her stomach into a sequence of somersaults, but she knew that it was caused by a magic of the darkest kind. Maybe that was why it was so repellant to her.

She tried to urge her furry friend to the doors, but he would not budge.

"I can't leave you here, Alfie. Not with all the Hollow Men and bleeding Banshees about," Sparrow pleaded with her companion. "Come in with me."

He whimpered, his tail tucking between his legs as he continued to back away.

"What if I give you a nice juicy bone off of my plate tonight, eh?" she asked, kneeling down beside him to interact with him on his level. "When all this is through, we'll both have a nice, hot dinner, hmm?"

This didn't seem to be very convincing, for he moved further back.

"Please, Alfie," she begged. "Come with me."

He made a soft yowling noise, and he backed away.

If she couldn't convince him to come inside, she would have to find a safe place for him. Luckily, there was an abandoned cottage not too far away with a door that latched from the outside. Banshees and Hollow Men would likely not be able to get through a locked door. They didn't seem intelligent, nor nimble enough to fiddle with it.

She returned to the dark temple alone, trying to fight off the intimidating aura that the place exuded. She entered leaving the door ajar, and she discovered that the torches on the old, stone walls were all ignited. It smelled of must and decay—and death. She took in a deep breath, and she continued toward stairs that led down, further into the belly of the abominable temple.

A woman's weeping carried through the halls and rooms of the cavernous building, and Sparrow called out, "Hello?"

She was answered only by the echo of her own voice against the old walls, but she heard a familiar growl of a Hobbe, then the sound of its brethren joining in.

But they weren't Hobbes. They were figments of shadow, just as the Banshee's children had been. They were simple enough to defeat, but the closed quarters made things a wee bit more difficult for her. She could not swing her sword very effectively so she was left to her pistol and the use of her will.

The further she ventured down, the more menacing and intimidating the shadow creatures she encountered became. Hobbes, then bandits, then Balverines. Each set of foes was more fearsome than the last, and by the time she grew closer to the sound of the woman's weeping, she was feeling the fatigue setting into her muscles.

She turned a corner, and took the stairs down into a large, round chamber. A bottomless pit lay between the platform she stood on and another platform that held three thrones. She glanced around, and on the corner of the platform she found the source of the sobbing. It was a young woman, only a few years younger than Sparrow. She looked pitiful, terrified, and she was alone in the room.

"Are you alright?" Sparrow asked.

"P-please…my name is Elizabeth," the woman sniffled. "Help me."

"What happened? Why are you here?" Sparrow questioned.

"Me and some friends, we were reading from this really old book we found," Elizabeth relayed in a warbling voice. "It had all these strange words. There was a bright light…and I woke up here."

Sparrow sighed. Another fool reading from books of mysterious origin. She was reminded of Sam and Max and all of the trouble they'd gotten into. Her patience was already wearing thin. She was about to dismiss the girl when the ground began to tremble beneath their feet.

"Wh-where are we? I'm so scared!" exclaimed Elizabeth, seizing Sparrow by the arm and clinging tight. "I want to go home!"

Dark power seemed to gather in the room, and three cloaked, shadowy figures appeared on the platform across the chasm, each standing in front of one of the thrones.

Elizabeth shrieked at the sight of them, but Sparrow's face barely changed. Of course the owners of such a foul artifact would not be of this world. What had she expected, and more importantly, what had Reaver gotten himself—and Sparrow—into?

"Welcome," said each of the shadows. Each seemed to have the same, deep nightmarish voice, as if someone—or something was relaying their words.

"One of you carries the Dark Seal," the central shadow boomed. "But there are two. Only one is required."

Sparrow's pulse quickened, and she was suddenly scared. Only one would be required for what? Her hand went immediately to the satchel hanging at her hip, the one that held what they had referred to as The Dark Seal.

"One will trade their youth and beauty so that the King of Thieves may retain his," the shadow explained. "This is the bargain we honor."

Sparrow's gut clenched with both fear and fury. Reaver had set her up. She hadn't even placed her trust in him, and yet he'd manage to betray it. Her limbs quaked with anger, and she shrugged Elizabeth off of her arm to open the satchel and retrieve the foul, loathsome seal.

"What if I say no?" Sparrow asked, tossing the seal to the ground before her. It clattered loudly, but it remained intact. "What if I take this poor girl and leave right this instant?"

With a loud clicking and clanking, a large spiked gate fell over the entrance of the hall, and Sparrow found herself regretting announcing her plans to the shadows.

"The rules cannot be broken," the shadow continued. "We will take whoever bears the Dark Seal."

"What…what does that mean?" Elizabeth wept.

The shadow's glowing red eyes darted between Elizabeth and Sparrow. "You must choose…_quickly_."

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide, and she spun to face Sparrow.

"Please!" she sobbed. "I just want to see my parents again!"

Sparrow sucked in a breath, and she picked up the seal. It pulsed slowly, but as the moments passed, it came more quickly. A dreadful heart beat…a time limit. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts all at once. She should save the girl, but if she saved the girl, what would that mean for her plight against Lucien?

If Sparrow's youth was stripped away, how would she ever be able to fight him? She had vowed to do anything necessary to claim justice for all of the people Lucien had hurt, including her sister. What would come of it, if she was too weak to fight? What horrible fate would the world suffer, then?

The thing vibrated in her hands, and she looked up to Elizabeth, who was watching her intently with eyes wide like saucers.

Sparrow's heart twisted as she did it, but she shoved the Dark Seal toward the young, innocent girl. Taking a definite step back, showing those awful creatures that the choice had been made—their sacrifice had been chosen.

"What!?" Elizabeth stammered, her fingers locking around the seal, as if by magic. "No…You…you can't do this!"

Tears gathered in Sparrow's eyes. "I'm sorry…"

"Please!" Elizabeth wailed. She seemed to be trying to throw the seal, but her hands were stuck tight to it. The Shadows were right. The choice had been made. "Don't! _PLEASE!_"

"I can't…" She took a few more steps backward.

Elizabeth was sobbing wordlessly, trying to pry her hands away from the seal, the pulse of which was now audible, and growing faster with each passing moment. A thick cloud of black smoke poured from the seal, engulfing the young woman.

Tears rolled down Sparrow's cheeks, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the cloud that overtook Elizabeth. She had to watch as the girl screamed and fought beneath the smoke. Soon, though, the smoke faded away, and what Sparrow saw made her stomach drop.

Elizabeth was _old_. Wrinkled and stooped over, her eyes now gone, replaced with glowing white orbs, and the seal finally dropped from her hands, clattering with an empty-sounding _clank_.

"What…what's happened to me?" she asked, her voice having aged as much as her body. Her hand went to her throat, but when she caught sight of her think liver-spotted skin, those empty eyes widened, and she gasped in horror. "_NO!_"

"Reaver has again fulfilled the bargain," the shadow boomed, sounding pleased. "But when the sacrifices stop, we will come for him. This, he knows."

"What do you mean?" Sparrow asked. Did he do this simply because he was vain enough to require eternal youth? Or was there a darker, more complex reason for this yearly sacrifice?

"It is none of your concern, Hero!" the shadows all said at once. "_Be_ _gone_!"

The gate to the door flew open, and both Sparrow and Elizabeth were knocked backward toward it as the shadows disappeared with a whoosh of unnatural wind. Sparrow climbed quickly to her feet, and she reached out to help Elizabeth up as well.

"Don't you touch me, you terrible woman!" Elizabeth howled, scrambling weakly to her feet. "You did this to me! You're to blame!"

Sparrow's sympathy instantly vanished, and she found herself barking, "You did it to yourself, you stupid cow! Reading from a book which ought not to be read from!"

Her face was hot with fury, and she once again reached out a hand to help her, this time more forceful.

"I'm not going with you! No matter what you do, I'm not going with you!" Elizabeth screamed, sobbing again.

Sparrow considered leaving her behind, but she knew that a woman that weak would never make it through Wraithmarsh alive. She would have to force her to come somehow. She grasped Elizabeth by the shoulder, pulling her to her feet, but Elizabeth retaliated by biting her as fiercely as she could. It seemed that despite her old age, Elizabeth's teeth were still intact and rather strong.

Sparrow yelped, and she drew her pistol, striking the woman with the butt of it, only hard enough to render her unconscious. She hoisted her up, distributing her weight evenly over both shoulders, and she made her way toward the door.

The Dark Seal caught her eye, looking dark and beautiful in the torchlight, and she sighed, turning back for it. She picked it up, putting it in her satchel. Perhaps it could be used as leverage against him. If she refused to relinquish the seal, the promise of those shadows might come true. They would come for him, and while she didn't know what that meant, she knew it would not be pleasant.

"That was a difficult decision," Theresa spoke through the Guild Seal. "But you are alive and strong, and that is what matters most. Go back to Reaver."

Sparrow would go back to Reaver, and she had a few choice words and a few well-placed bullets for him.


	8. Fish in a Barrel

**Chapter Eight: Fish in a Barrel**

After depositing Elizabeth safely at the edge of the marsh and running another little errand, Sparrow set her sights on Bloodstone Manor, which looked menacing in the moonlight. She didn't bother cleaning or primping herself as she climbed the hill. Her hair was knotted into a messy braid, and spatters of muck from the marsh stained her blouse and the skin on her face. He wouldn't get the consideration of making herself presentable. She was going to use her knowledge of his situation to her advantage, and she would be taking him along with her to Theresa that very night. Nothing would stand in her way.

With every step, she grew more and more attracted to the idea of greeting him with her fists, which were clenched at her sides. When she approached the guards at the gate, they stared at her for a moment before being persuaded only by her glare of fury to open the gates.

She passed the without a single glance back toward them, and threw open his front door, her feet stomping across his expensive floors, leaving behind mud and whatever else she'd trod over in her long journey from Wraithmarsh.

"Reaver!" she shouted, pushing on through to his study. As she threw the doors open, she saw the unmistakable flash of Barnum's Photocamographer—which he'd shortened to simply camera when he'd given up the cult of T.O.B.Y.

"We're done," Barnum said proudly.

Reaver, completely ignoring Sparrow's presence questioned the photographer, "And you're sure that it will look like me?"

"Exactly like you, sir," Barnum boasted. "In three months, the picture will be developerized and…"

"_Three months_?" Reaver asked, his face taking on a sour expression. His thumb pulled back the hammer of his pistol, and he chuckled, as if the idea was preposterous. "That's no good."

Before Sparrow could stop it, Reaver shot Barnum. Though, it was immediately apparent that it was not a fatal flow, as Barnum started to roll around the floor, gripping at his shoulder, being sure to suffer in silence, as to not disturb or incur more of Reaver's wrath.

Reaver finally brought his eyes to rest on Sparrow. "You're back."

"That's right," Sparrow growled.

"And looking as youthful and spirited as ever!" He beamed. "Aren't you a tricky one? Good for you."

Sparrow took a few steps forward. "You're a foul trickster, Reaver."

"You have my eternal thanks for delivering that troublesome seal," he continued, stowing his pistol and resting his hands on his hips. "Now, I have a confession to make. While you were away, it occurred to me that Lucien is probably a bit miffed that you wandered off without his permission."

The blood drained from her face, and her stomach curled into a tight knot of worry. She did not like where this conversation was going. She couldn't say anything. She could only listen.

"Maybe miffed enough to part with a large heap of gold to get you back," Reaver said, moving closer, and circling her appraisingly, probably wondering if he could get paid pound for pound. That'd make him a much richer man, for sure, and Lucien certainly had the gold for it. "And you know what? I was right."

"You bastard," Sparrow said through clenched teeth, holding back the tears of cold rage that threatened to spill out.

He stepped behind her, pressing himself against her back. He leaned forward, and his tone was taunting, "So as fun as all this has been, I'm afraid I must now return you to The Spire. "

Sparrow's muscles clenched, and her hand twitched toward her sword, but Reaver was much faster than her fatigued muscles could move. His thin fingers wrapped around her wrists, and he pinned her arms to her side.

"Lucien's men will be here any moment," he said.

"Reaver, please," Sparrow whispered softly. "I'd do anything…"

"Anything, you say? As enticing as you were…." He paused, inspecting her body with an appreciative eye. "Mmm…still are, even covered in mud and blood and filth…I cannot say for certain that a hefty pile of gold would provide me more comfort than a long, passionate night with you, but one can never be sure of such things. I've taken the cautionary route, of course."

The sound of a loud explosion filled the house, shaking the floor beneath their feet.

"Alright, now what exactly was that?" Reaver asked, his tone becoming more agitated. He released Sparrow and stormed toward the door, but someone had appeared on the balcony above.

"Reaver!" one of his cronies shouted. "The city's under attack!"

"Attack?" Sparrow asked, her voice suddenly finding her again.

"By a bloody army!" he continued. "Lucien's men—dozens of the buggers! And the guy in charge is yelling at his men 'Find this Reaver!'"

Reaver's face shifted from shocked to livid in an instant.

"Me? Lucien and I had a gentleman's agreement!" He scoffed angrily as he started toward a bookshelf in the corner. He grasped Sparrow by the wrist tugging her along with him. "How dare he betray me?"

He glanced back to Sparrow, continuing, "And just when I was in the middle of trying to betray you! How inconvenient!"

"What are you doing?" Sparrow grunted pulling away from him. "Where are you taking me?"

"I recommend we flee down this rather handy escape tunnel," He pushed the bookshelf aside, revealing a secret passageway. He caught her arm again, tugging her against his body.

"Let go of me!" she protested.

"Would you rather the alternative? Returning to Lucien where he can inflict all sorts of terrors upon you?" Reaver asked, his eyes meeting with hers in a piercing gaze.

For a moment, she could see that he was fearful that said horrors would be inflicted upon him.

His face then shifted to one of smug playfulness. "It's not often I invite people to travel down my rear passage, dear. You should feel honored."

Sparrow allowed him to pull her behind the bookshelf, Alfie darting in behind them, and together, they slid it back into place behind them.

"You betrayed me, why save me now?" she asked.

"It wasn't anything _personal_," Reaver argued. "I simply weighed my options. But had I waited until you completed my little task in Wraithmarsh, to see that you had chosen yourself over someone else, as I might have expected, I might not have betrayed you at all. I might have simply rewarded you with that long night or passionate love-making you might have expected of me." He grinned. "Oh, who are we kidding? I probably still will."

"You will _not_," Sparrow grumbled, clenching her jaw defiantly as she took off down the passageway, Reaver pushing himself ahead of her.

"Don't enjoy the view back there too much," Reaver warned her with a chuckle. "The winding tunnels down here can be treacherous."

"That's not all that's treacherous down here," Sparrow murmured.

"Oh, do try to be a good sport," Reaver cajoled.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and while Reaver rattled on about the history of the tunnels, and the other occasions on which he'd used them, she seethed. She hadn't expected two betrayals in one encounter with the man. She still hadn't given him a piece of her mind about what had happened, and with all the commotion, she'd been unable to use the leverage she'd procured against him.

"Oh, that would have been 200 years ago," he said with a chuckle.

That, she heard. 200 years. He had been alive that long?

There was an explosion ahead, and she saw that guards from The Spire were spilling into the old mining shaft. Shouting orders that she couldn't quite make out, but she was sure that they couldn't be good.

They started firing upon Reaver and Sparrow indiscriminately. Reaver pulled her into cover behind a few conveniently placed crates. "Lucien's men! Here?" He sighed. "Well, so much for a pleasurable romp through the labyrinth."

Sparrow simply loaded her pistol, and she looked to Alfie, "Stay out of the way, and don't pick any fights. Only come out when the coast is clear. Do you understand?"

Alfie whined, but he lay down, looking rather put out.

"He must have known about these tunnels," he continued, not paying Sparrow any attention. "And I thought I'd been quite clever and secretive. How irksome

Reaver drew his pistol and smirked when he saw Sparrow had done the same.

"A gunslinger, I see," he murmured. "Well, we shall see how you stack up."

They popped up out of cover simultaneously, firing on the slew of men coming down the shaft toward them. Instead of reloading when her pistol was spent, Sparrow jumped over the cover, drawing her sword and darting into the fray, using her Will to propel her forward at lightning speed.

She stuck her katana into the chest of one of the Spire Guards, and she summoned a ring of force to push the rest of them back. She pushed the man off of her sword, and she glanced back to see that Reaver, too, had leapt from cover.

As they made their way further down the shaft, more guards appeared.

"How many men does he have down here? They're positively oozing out of the stonework!" Reaver exclaimed, raising his pistol to take down a few more.

Sparrow hastily reloaded and joined Reaver in his ranged assault on the approaching onslaught of guards.

"We are willing to die!" one of the guards shouted.

"Good!" Reaver retorted. "Because we are willing to kill you!"

And they did, and many more of his comrades before they finally made their way forward. Every once in a while, Sparrow would catch Reaver watching her, yet still firing as accurately as he would completely focused on the task. Upon being caught, Reaver would merely grin and offer her a wink before refocusing himself on the carnage.

More guards flooded the area, and Reaver gave her a reassuring nudge.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about these chaps," Reaver assured her. "I can get us out of here. I mean, I'm me, aren't I?"

"The town is overrun," Theresa spoke to her through the Guild Seal. "You have to keep going and find another way out."

Sparrow rolled her eyes. As if she didn't know that. She took off after Reaver, following him down another tight corridor, sticking close to him, not wanting to lose him in the winding, maze-like tunnels.

They came into a large room with mine-cart tracks built up nearly to the ceiling, and Lucien's men were lined up waiting for them.

"Blast it!" Reaver snarled. "We're like fish in a barrel. If there's one thing I hate, it's an unfair fight."

Sparrow almost retorted, but she was struck by a bullet in the shoulder. It was nothing, merely a graze, so she charged up her Will and sent a crackling ball of electricity toward a group of guards.

They were fired on relentlessly by the guards, while more found their way to the bottom of the room.

"These lads aren't particularly sporting, are they?" Reaver said, firing once, yet three men fell.

Sparrow gaped, seeing that he'd matched her own personal record with the littlest of concentration. She felt her cheeks flare with petty jealousy, and she grumbled softly as she reloaded her pistol.

"Luckily for you, you're in the presence of the best shot since…well…ever," Reaver gloated with a laugh.

They polished off the last of the guards in that room, and Sparrow followed Reaver into one of the many tunnel choices. She could only hope that his memory hadn't gone in his old age. It would be a terrible pity if they were chased into a corner by Lucien's men.

The next room was clear and they were able to take a small breather. Reaver was reloading his pistol, and even in the faint torchlight, the intricate filigree worked into the weapon seemed to glow with beauty. It was one of the most beautiful—and rare—pistols she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Are you admiring my weapon?" Reaver asked, running a gloved hand over the barrel. "Beauty, isn't she? Dragonstomper .48."

"Yes. I've read of them," Sparrow said. "I've never seen one."

"Only six were ever made, you know," Reaver relayed to her. "For six lucky people….well…not all that lucky. I've killed four of them so far." He laughed.

To have one Dragonstomper was a feat in itself, but to hold four…or even five? That was astoundingly impressive, even if they were acquired by murderous means.

She followed Reaver out of the room, and they were in the room with the mine cart tracks again, only they stood where Lucien's men had been at the top. There were guards all below them, and Reaver started to fire on them.

"Ah," Reaver sighed. "Now this is more my style. A fair and unbiased fight."

"Yet, when we were on the other side of it, it was unfair?" Sparrow asked a bit of humor gracing her voice.

"My, my!" Reaver exclaimed. "Has my sullen mistress finally come out of her slump of discontent?" He offered a smile that made her heart flutter, but she ignored it, trying to hit as many of the guards in the head as she could.

Guards darted out onto the tracks behind them, and Reaver drew his sword, moving with impeccable speed and grace. He slashed one of the guard in the gut and kicked him off of the edge of the track.

Sparrow dealt with the other, using her sword with equally impressive agility.

"The way's boarded off!" Reaver snarled, pointing to the doorway at the opposite end of the track.

Sparrow looked. The boards looked old and easily disposed of…with the right amount of strength put behind it. She hurled herself toward them, putting all of her force into the shoulder she drove into them. The boards splintered apart, and the way was clear. Her shoulder throbbed, and she found herself missing Hammer and her trusty weapon.

Reaver followed closely after her, and he moved ahead, dragging her toward a ledge. He jumped down first, and like a gentleman—which was thoroughly surprising to her—he held out his arms and offered to catch her.

She hesitated for only a moment, but she decided that placing her trust in him would be less dangerous than remaining stranded where she was. She took a deep breath, and she leaped off of the ledge.

When he caught her, she was surprised by the jump of thrill in her gut. His arms were strong and his hands were not shy about gripping her firmly as he carried her around a large puddle of old, stale water. She didn't wriggle away from him immediately, for her heart was too busy pounding rapidly from his mere proximity. Catching her breath, she could smell the mixture of expensive cologne and perspiration. The combination was…pleasant.

"Nearly there," Reaver said, setting her gently to her feet away on dry ground. He glanced in the direction of a barred window. "Ah, there's my ship coming in now: _The Reaver_."

Sparrow nearly laughed. "You named your ship after yourself?"

"I was going to call her the _Narcissus, _but there was already one on the registry," he said, as if it would justify it. He laughed freely, his deep blue eyes filled with humor, and finding her.

"I see," Sparrow said, stowing her blade and pistol, and she saw that Reaver did the same. They were both quick enough that they'd be able to reach for their weapons before falling victim to any more of Lucien's men.

"One day, you can tell your grandchildren of this day," Reaver said, dusting himself off and running a hand through his tousled hair. "How you fought by the side of the legendary Reaver—how he missed no target."

Sparrow rolled her eyes.

"Wait," Reaver said, looking suddenly on alert.

Sparrow's eyes darted around, but she was taken completely by surprise by Reaver's mouth crushing against hers. Her first instinct was to fight against him, to push him away, but her body ignored it, leaning into him. Her muscles sagged, and her stomach fluttered. She felt her heart beating in her throat.

All the while, Reaver was pressing her closer and closer to his body, gripping at her hips, and tugging at her hair in all the right ways. His tongue swept into her mouth, exploring, claiming. He tasted of whiskey and sweetness, and he certainly knew what he was doing. No wonder he had such a reputation. He was relentless in the kiss until he suddenly released her, a debauched grin spread across that handsome face.

"You can tell them about _that_," he basically purred against her ear. "Not that they'll believe you."

Sparrow was nearly breathless, and heat flooded her every sense. She had never been kissed like that before, even by Alex in the days after her return to Oakfield. It was so full of passion, heat, and enthusiasm that she thought she might be smothered by the intensity of it. She could chalk it up to the rush she usually felt after a fight, but it was more than that.

Whatever had been missing in her relationship with Alex, she had found it with Reaver. As despicable as the man was, his kiss had awakened parts of her body that had long been dormant, but she tried to push that from her mind. He was a thief, a scoundrel, and he'd tried to kill her or have her killed…twice. It wasn't going to happen.

It wasn't going to happen, but it didn't mean that she hadn't enjoyed what little of it she'd had. She almost fanned at herself, but she did not want to give Reaver even more to brag about. She simply caught her breath in silence and led the way out of the tunnel, following the light to the outside.

**A/N: So sorry for the huge delay in publishing, but I was, at the beginning of the month planning on doing something for NaNoWriMo, but that fell to the wayside when I got strep throat and the stomach flu at the same time (pretty much the plague). I've got a few chapters lined up, so I may go ahead and just post two to make up for it! Leave me some reviews! I love your feedback! **


	9. Plan B

**Chapter Nine: Plan B**

The sun was coming up when they reached the exit out of the Rear Passage—as Reaver had called it. Alfie looked excited to be out of the dark, and he rolled appreciatively in the sand, yipping and panting happily.

Sparrow was shocked to see that Garth and Hammer stood waiting for them on the beach. She felt suddenly ashamed of the things that had transpired in the tunnel. The kiss with Reaver had been something that her fellow Heroes would most definitely view unfavorably, especially once they learned of his multiple betrayals.

"She was right!" Hammer exclaimed, her face lighting up with relief. "They're here."

"Hammer," Sparrow breathed with a small smile. "Garth. You're here."

"Good to see you again," Hammer said throwing an arm over Sparrow in half of a hug. "I hope we didn't miss too much."

Garth nodded respectfully in greeting before speaking. "Sounded like a massacre. Are all the soldiers gone?"

"I think so," Sparrow answered, glancing back. They hadn't heard any stirrings behind them, and if Sparrow and Reaver had the time to snog passionately in the final chamber of the passage, she was sure they were home free.

"Far away, I hope," Hammer said, her voice dropping into a tone of soft despair. "I don't know how much more killing I can stand. Balverines and bandits behind every rock and tree…and every one I kill, two more take its place."

Reaver glanced between Sparrow, Hammer, and Garth, and he drew in a breath. "Eh…all quite fascinating. I'm…I'm touched." He pushed his way through between Garth and Hammer. "I'm also leaving."

Reaver then paused, as if remembering something, and he smiled. "Oh yes! 3..2…1…"

There was an explosion, and Hammer dove for cover, shielding Alfie with her body, and pulling Sparrow down to the ground beside her in an act of protection. Garth had thrown up a protective shield, but Reaver stood proudly with his hands on his hips, knowing precisely how far the blast would reach.

"And any other lurking nasties in the tunnel will now have a bit of a headache," Reaver said, dusting his hands off ceremoniously. "Which means I've just saved us all. Aren't I _nice_?"

"Well, what now?" Sparrow asked, turning toward Reaver. "Does that mean you'll come along with me?"

"In a few moments," Reaver told her with a smirk. "I'll be sailing away to safety on my escape ship."

Sparrow's eyes narrowed. "You—"

"So the way I see it," Reaver said, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're even. Toodleoo."

Without any further goodbye, he started toward the dock where the Reaver sat in wait for him.

Sparrow must have seen it before anyone else because everyone stared at the look of shock and horror on her face with confusion. A Shard had appeared from behind a rocky cliff, making its way toward them.

Finally, the other three looked where Sparrow looked just in time to see the Shard open itself up. The core in the middle charged, making a loud humming noise, and a beam of bright, red light blasted Reaver's ship to oblivion.

Reaver's face was one of sheer surprise, but he didn't look angry as one might have expected. "Or…not…right…well. Plan B."

"What's Plan B?" Sparrow questioned

"This is Plan B," Reaver said, drawing his Dragonstomper and firing freely upon the Shard, to no avail.

"The Shard is back," Garth announced. "There's no escape from here. We'll have to destroy it!"

Hammer murmured softly, "Just never enough, is it?"

The Shard began summoning soldiers by the dozens, but the four Heroes were prepared. They all jumped into the fray, shooting, and summoning lightning and swinging their weapons. Reaver seemed slightly perplexed, but to Sparrow, Garth, and Hammer, it was almost routine.

"Aha, I see," Reaver remarked. "I presume this sort of thing happens to you people on a regular basis, does it?"

More Spire Guards were spawned, and Hammer rolled her eyes.

"No end to you lot, is there!?" she shouted. "Like bloody cockroaches! Come on, then!"

Suddenly, the Shard opened, and it started charging a sustained attack. It marked its target right on top of Reaver, and Sparrow jumped to knock him out of its way as it fired. They toppled to the ground, rolling into the sand with Sparrow landing atop The Hero of Skill.

"I don't think now's the right time," Reaver chided with an impish grin. "But if you wanted to be on top of me, all you needed to do was ask."

Sparrow removed herself from on top of him, brushing herself off, and then tugging him roughly to his feet. There seemed to be a pause in the assault, so Sparrow took this time to reload her weapon and focus her Will.

"Cover me!" Garth called, making his way a smaller cliff on the edge of the beach. "I must find a way to expose its vulnerable spot! I know it has one!"

"Hammer, Reaver," Sparrow said. "I'm going to cover Garth up there. You two stay down here and pick off as many of the soldiers as you can."

"Right," Hammer confirmed with a nod.

"You're leaving me here with this hammer-swinging barbarian?" Reaver asked, nonplussed. He set his hands on his hips much like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Don't worry, pretty boy," Hammer said, giving him a hefty clap on the shoulder. "I'll try not to clobber you over the head."

Reaver dusted off his shoulder where she'd touched him, as if she'd gotten him terribly dirty. He looked to be pleading with Sparrow to stay, but she turned her back on him, heading toward Garth.

"Old Kingdom artifacts react to the Will," Garth told her, sending a barrage of magic blades toward The Shard. "I just have to find the right spell." He sent a huge fireball blazing across the sky toward it, and it didn't faze it whatsoever. "There must be a way…"

"Keep trying, Garth," Sparrow urged him, firing at the guards that had managed to slip by Reaver and Hammer and up the hill toward them. "You'll get it."

"Nothing seems to work…" he growled, still focused on the shard. "Unless…." He gathered his Will once more and sent a long bolt of lightning at the monstrosity. The Shard vibrated and the electricity took it over, seeming to affect it more than any of the other spells.

"You got it!" Sparrow exclaimed, excitedly.

"Yes, that's it! Long, sustained attacks," Garth said nodding in Sparrow's direction. "That's the only way to bring it down."

"Well, I can help you there," Sparrow said, holding up her hand, a ball of lightning crackling with power.

"And your help is most welcome," Garth affirmed with a nod.

"This would be much more sporting if you could make it show us its dirty little secret again!" Reaver called from below. He, of course, referred to its open, vulnerable state.

While it spawned more soldiers for Hammer and Reaver to handle, Sparrow and Garth assaulted it together, each throwing powerful waves of lightning at it, one after the other, until it opened itself up.

"They've done it!" Hammer shouted. "Get The Shard while you can!"

Sparrow drew her pistol, firing on it, and she heard Reaver's Dragonstomper roaring in tandem with her shooting. Each bullet seemed to weaken it, causing its light to flash on and off weakly, but soon enough, it recovered and gathered its strength for another beam attack.

This time, the target was Sparrow, but she was aware of her surroundings. She rolled just out of the attack's reach, and she rejoined Garth while The Shard went back to summoning more guards.

Sparrow focused her Will once more, standing beside Garth, and in the middle of a particularly powerful spell, she heard footsteps approaching, followed by another pair. She cursed under her breath and almost abandoned her concentration, but a blare of gunfire stopped the guard dead in his tracks. He fell to the ground, and Reaver stepped over his body, giving Sparrow a wink and a grin.

"I suppose we should cover your backs while you two weave your magic," Reaver said, taking the high ground, as he preferred, to pick off the soldiers on the ground.

Hammer, the only remaining Hero on the sand, was anything but helpless. She swung he weapon, taking out two or three of the guards at a time, but she looked weary. Her face was set with a grim determination, but her eyes were sad, tired.

The Shard continued its cycle of charging up attacks, spawning more guards, then falling victim to the combined Will of Garth and Sparrow, showing its weakness. Reaver seemed to be adept at keeping the guards from breaking through to them as they gathered their concentration.

The Shard opened up one last time, and both Reaver and Sparrow fired into the glowing weak point until it burst. The whole beach was bathed in a hot, white light. All of the Heroes were knocked onto their backs, and when the light cleared, Sparrow climbed weakly to her feet.

"Garth?" she asked, her voice cracking softly.

"I'm alright," Garth assured her, staying still. "I need a moment to gather my strength once more."

Reaver and Hammer were on their feet, making their way to the barricade that separated them from the water, and once Sparrow helped Garth to stand, they followed.

Looking upon the sinking wreckage of The Shard, Garth's face shifted from exhaustion to pride.

"We did it!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Hammer smiled, nodding in agreement. "Now, _that's_ teamwork."

"Yes," Reaver said with a soft chuckle. "Such fun….and with that, I'm off." He glanced between the three of them. "Bysie."

"You can't leave now!" Hammer protested. "We need you!"

A bright light shone in front of Reaver, blocking his path of escape, and Theresa appeared from within it.

"Welcome, Reaver," she said, a soft smile gracing her mouth.

"Er…delighted to be here," Reaver said, inspecting her for a moment with judgmental eyes. "Er…whoever you are, but as I was saying before the enormous, pointy flying boulder interrupted, I really must go."

"Listen to me," Theresa said urgently. "If you do not help us. Lucien will control the world and every person in it."

Reaver snorted, "Well, he's welcome to them. People are a bit overrated, don't you find?"

"Then _who _will you sacrifice to The King of Shadows?" Theresa questioned, her smile turning from appreciative to smug.

Sparrow's heart skidded to a halt. Theresa knew what she was walking into. Of course she did. She knew the choice that would have to be made before Sparrow even set foot in Wraithmarsh. Sparrow's anger shifted from Reaver to Theresa. It was one thing to put a total stranger in that position, it was quite another to knowingly send your protégé to walk unknowingly into danger.

"Very well," he sighed, sounding almost defeated. "Alright, yes. I will help you, and after that, there's a good chance I will kill you…but…well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, hm?"

Theresa seemed pleased, and she laced her hands together.

"So…what now?" Reaver asked.

"We must gather at the Chamber of Fate," Theresa said. "The time is not yet upon us, but it is soon. We must keep the four of you safe until such a time as we can march against Lord Lucien."

"Wait?" Garth asked. "You said all would be set in motion when we recruited The Hero of Skill. We were to bring Lucien down as soon as possible."

"Conditions are not right," Theresa said. "If you were to go now, all would be lost."

"Well," Hammer said. "Let's go, then."

* * *

><p>Sparrow paced the chamber, her anger still bubbling inside of her. She felt betrayed by Reaver, yes, but most of all, she felt betrayed by Theresa. She had once viewed Theresa as a mother figure, but now she could not even look at her. She needed time to unwind, time to cool off, but trapped in the Chamber of Fate with Hammer, Garth, Reaver, and Theresa would not give her the reprieve she desperately wanted.<p>

She turned to pace back to the other end of the chamber, but she ran straight into Reaver, whose hands wrapped around her, not passionately as they had before, but threateningly.

"Where is it?" Reaver snarled, his eyes boring into hers.

"What?" Sparrow asked innocently. She knew to what he referred, but she decided that playing dumb would further agitate him. Agitating him might give her a bit of distraction from her own anger.

"You know what," he seethed. He reached for the satchel on her waist, and he ripped it open without any sort of permission. Not finding what he was searching for, he shoved her back. "Where is the Dark Seal?"

"Why, I must have misplaced it," Sparrow said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "It's all really fuzzy...what with all of the betrayal that's happened today."

Reaver seized her by the collar of her blouse, and he drew her closer, his face reddening with impatience. "_Listen, girl_…"

"Sparrow?" Garth called after her, rising from his seat of meditation. Even being as thin as he was, he had a threatening aura about him, especially when it was known just how powerful he truly was. His good eye narrowed, falling on Reaver. "Are you in need of assistance?"

Sparrow grabbed Reaver's hand and pried it away from her blouse. "I can handle it, Garth."

Garth returned to his task, but Reaver still looked as agitated as ever.

"It's safe, if that's what you're worried about," Sparrow said. "I put it somewhere that's not open to simply everyone."

"You'll take me to it, and you'll take me to it this instant," Reaver insisted. "I don't want you perishing before you can divulge the secret to me."

An idea sparked in Sparrow's mind. This would be her opportunity to get away from Theresa until her anger faded. She would take Reaver to The Dark Seal, and then they would return with Reaver's alliance secured fully.

"If you give me your word that you will indeed help us when the time comes," Sparrow said, holding out her hand for him to shake. "You must have a shred of honor in you…or self-preservation."

Reaver stared at it for a moment, and he sighed, rolling his eyes. He shook her hand, and he sighed. "Now, where did you stash it? Somewhere around Bloodstone, I presume?"

"In between Bloodstone and Wraithmarsh," Sparrow told him. "That's all I will say until we've made it there."

"Wait," Hammer said, suddenly tuning into the conversation. "You two are going somewhere?"

"Yes," Reaver replied, a hint of annoyance still clear in his voice. "Sparrow is taking me to procure a valuable trinket that she has stolen from me."

"Sparrow… stole something from you?" Hammer snorted with disbelief.

"Yes," Reaver snapped. "It's quite the journey, so I'm sure we should be leaving as soon as possible."

"Then I'm coming with you," Hammer offered. "Another Hero wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"It's dangerous out there," Garth said. "I agree."

It was then that Theresa made herself known, "No, Hammer. What Sparrow and Reaver must do is important, but two Heroes traveling together in these times is dangerous enough. Three, or even four would be disastrous."

"But what if Lucien tracks them down?" Garth questioned, raising an inquisitive brow.

"He cannot get what he wants with only two, Garth," Theresa said. "And I am confident that, together, Sparrow and Reaver will be able to come out of it unscathed."

"You're just going to let them go?" Hammer sighed. "But we've only just gotten all together"

"As I said," Theresa interjected. "We have time until the conditions to defeat Lucien are just right, and this journey will prove to be fruitful, I am sure."

"_Fruitful_," Reaver grumbled, rolling his eyes. "We shall see."

"Will you be taking the Cullis Gate?" Garth questioned. "I had been wondering about the circumstances of your last trip through."

"A mass surge of magic would bring Lucien and his men here," Theresa said. "This is our sanctum, and we cannot allow it to be breached. It would be for the best if they traveled quietly by more traditional means."

"A ship is out," Reaver announced. "Lucien's had his ships crisscrossing the sea…I suppose he was looking for me, now that I think about it." His voice shifted to a sardonic tone. "It seems we will be traveling by land_. Yipee_. I am absolutely aquiver with anticipation."

"We should set off as soon as possible, then," Sparrow said, glad to have been granted the freedom to leave the Chamber of Fate. She needed to breathe, and on the road, she was sure she would be able to. On top of her anger and frustration, she was becoming more and more anxious about facing Lucien, and this little voyage might prove to be the perfect distraction.

**A/N: Woo! Off on an adventure! What ever could happen? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you stick around, another chapter may be uploaded very soon! Leave me a review to let me know what you think. I love to hear from you guys! **


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